


The Traveler

by theaveragebear



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, It's officially pretty rhinky, M/M, Mature for some sexy times, Mentions of OT4, Multiverse, Multiverse Travel, Note the rating change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2018-11-18 01:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaveragebear/pseuds/theaveragebear
Summary: Rhett's on a journey.





	1. Parallel

 

  
_The first time it happened, he didn’t even notice._

Rhett loves Saturday mornings, it’s the one time he’s allowed a small respite from his otherwise hectic life. Jessie is kind enough to keep the kids occupied so he can lay in the warm grass for a while, soft music drowning out the sound of the world. The early morning sun warms his skin as he allows himself to sink into the earth. His eyes close and his thoughts turn inward, pushing away daily contrivances to focus on deeper reflection. Out here he feels alone, calm, peaceful. He allows his breathing to slow and his heart rate follows.

On this particular Saturday, he must have fallen asleep. He wakes up groggily, his limbs feeling weak and heavy. Usually his morning meditations leave him refreshed, awake and ready to face the challenges of the day. But, today something is different. He’s not sure how long he was asleep, but it feels like it was too long to simply be a short power nap. Why didn’t anyone wake him? He glances around the yard, eyes readjusting to the bright sunlight. Everything seems normal, if a bit quiet. Gradually consciousness creeps back in and he realizes that his phone must have died because the music stopped.

He gets up and makes his way inside to find Jessie and the boys sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he passes on his way to the stove to heat up water for tea.

“How long was I out?”

“What’s that, babe?” Jessie eyes him curiously as she mops up a glass of spilled milk.

“How long was I asleep out there? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Well, you’ve barely been out there for 15 minutes, so if you passed out it can’t have been for very long.”

“Huh, that’s so weird. It felt like I was out for hours. What time is it?” He pulls out his phone to check the clock, but remembers that it died.

“8:30, I think.”

“Huh...It feels like it should be later.”

  
Rhett brushes off his strange little nap, thinking maybe he’s just feeling the effects of a night of restless sleep. The weekend passes as it normally does, shuttling the boys to various events, running errands, but Rhett can’t shake the feeling that something is...off.

For instance, every time he enters the living room he stubs his toe on the coffee table, which he swears is bigger than it used to be. He remembers buying the table, putting it together, which was a laborious task, the table seemingly having more parts than the instructions. But he distinctly remembers it being smaller, and obviously his feet think the same thing.

On Sunday afternoon, Jessie catches him staring at the painting on the wall above their bed. It’s a pretty piece, a monochromatic beach scene that she found at a local gallery. He’s staring at it with a bizarre intensity, head cocked to one side, as if seeing it for the first time.

“Hun…” Rhett startles at the sound of her voice, “Everything ok?”

“What?

“I asked you to run in and grab my sweater. You’ve been gone a while. We’re all in the car, ready to go.”

“When did we buy this?” Rhett asks.

“The painting?” Her eyes follow his to land on the canvas, then travel back to his face, “We bought that like a year ago. Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just could’ve sworn there used to be that big photo of all of us up there. That picture from my cousin’s wedding?”

“It was. Like, a year ago. Before we bought this painting. Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve seemed a bit out of it since yesterday.”

He shakes his head, dislodging his thoughts. “No, I’m fine. Just tired, I think. C’mon, let’s go...birthday parties wait for no man. There’s gonna be cake, right?”

“Yup... and trampolines. Get ready to drive someone to the ER.”

She chuckles as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in for a soft kiss before leading them down the stairs and out to the car.

***

Their busy weekend schedule means that Monday morning sneaks up on them before they are ready. He’s still stretching in bed when he hears his phone ding. He sees the notification pop up with Link’s name.

 

_When you picking me up?_

What?

_Did you forget how to read? What’s your ETA?_

You’re not picking me up?

_That’s hilarious._

It is?

_Rhett, I haven’t picked you up for three years._

What?  
  
_Did you hit your head? I haven’t picked you up since I hit that guy on the freeway. You won’t let me drive anymore. You seem to think I’m dangerous._

Right. Yeah, you definitely are. I’ll be there in 20.

_Ok, maybe you should set your alarm for earlier tomorrow. Give yourself more time to wake up._

 

Rhett stares at the phone in his hand for a while. He rereads the conversation a few times.

 _Well, that’s definitely weird_ , he thinks. _We didn’t get into a...oh._

And then the memory returns. It’s funny, he can remember Link rear-ending a Prius as they were exiting the freeway, but the memory is faded, worn like an old photograph. He has all the details but it doesn’t feel like his memory, more like he read about it in a history book. He can’t feel the memory in his body; the panic he should’ve felt upon impact, or how irrationally angry he became afterwards. It’s as if the memory doesn’t really belong to him, but to someone else. Rolling his knees up his chest for a final stretch, he tries to release the uneasy feeling he’s had for the last three days. A few deep breaths later, he gets out of bed to get dressed.

***

As the week rolls on Rhett starts to think that maybe he’s just having the world’s weirdest (and longest) case of deja vu. While reviewing the storyboard for an upcoming episode, Rhett can’t help but stare at the title card: _Business Buddies, Season 2, Episode 5._ He’s not sure why, but it really bothers him. Tapping his fingers on the table anxiously, he nearly shouts, “That’s the stupidest name!”

“Excuse me?” Link, and the rest of the staff in the room, are staring at him, puzzled looks on their faces.

Lowering his voice a bit he continues, “Uh... _Business Buddies_? Who came up with that, again?”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

“No, I just...I mean…I know how we came up with it,” he hopes that sounds convincing, “but why? Why _Business Buddies_? It sounds like some bad 80’s sitcom.”

Link glances around the room, making pointed eye contact with the crew members who take the hint and shuffle out the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me with this, man.” Rhett knows Link is really irritated, his voice is low and gruff. “That was your idea. You thought it was funny _because_ it sounded like an 80’s sitcom. I wanted _Buddy System_ , but you talked everyone else into your idea and I was voted down.”

“Yes! _Buddy System_! That’s what we named the show!” As the words tumble from his mouth, he knows how they sound. But there's something about that title that feels truer to him, more vibrant, alive. Business Buddies feels all wrong.

“No, Rhett, it’s not.”

Rhett knows he needs to backpedal a bit. “I know, man. I’m sorry. That was really unprofessional of me. I feel like we’ve been staring at this stuff for hours and not getting anywhere. Every idea is starting to sound like a bad one, you know? Maybe we should quit early today, give everyone a break, come back tomorrow with fresh eyes?”

Link accepts his explanation and apology, though a troubled look lingers on his face. He leaves the office to let the crew know they can all leave early, which is met with raucous cheers.

Rhett smiles to himself. _At least some things haven’t changed_ , he thinks, grabbing his jacket and heading out to meet Link at the car. 

By Wednesday he’s decided he needs to talk to someone about what’s happening to him, but hesitates in bringing it to Jessie as he doesn’t want to worry her. He wonders if he needs to go to the doctor for a CAT scan. He’s been pacing around the office all afternoon, getting no work done, and his strange behavior is starting to wear on his office mate.

Link stops typing mid-email, Rhett’s nervous energy making it difficult for him to concentrate on putting thoughts into words.

“What is up with you, man?”

“Huh?” Rhett freezes and looks at Link sheepishly.

“Clearly something is bothering you. You’ve been pacing about all week. You wanna talk about it?”

Rhett shouldn’t be afraid to talk to him, he knows that. He knows that despite some possible initial teasing, he’ll find warmth and understanding in Link’s eyes. Link always goes along with his crazy theories and ideas. That’s just who he is. So why is it so difficult to express what he needs to now?

“I don’t know what it is. I’m just having the weirdest week.”

“Weird how?”

“Mmm...it’s hard to describe. It sort of feels like nonstop deja vu. Or not deja vu, but like everything just feels a little strange.”

“Strange?”

“Yeah, like little details are not right...certain memories and experiences that I know I’ve had feel...foreign. Like I’m having constant out of body experiences. Or I’m living two lives at once, does that make any sense?”

“No. That sounds...preposterous.”

“Preposterous?”

“What? That’s a word.”

“It sure is. Just not one that usually comes out of your mouth.” Rhett can’t help the smile that takes over his face.

“What do you want me to say? What you just said is kind of crazy. I’m trying to help. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

“I don’t know. Not really.”

“I’m sure that’s all it is, then. You probably just need a good night’s rest to reset your brain.”

“So, you think that looking up ‘What to do if you’re having false memories’ on WebMD is a bad idea?”

Link snorts out a laugh and gives Rhett a soft smile, “Yeah, it might be a bit early for that. We’ve been under a lot of stress here,” He stands and crosses the room to place his hands squarely on Rhett's shoulders, looking him in the eye, “And I’m sure you’re fine.” He pats him gently on the arm and pushes him toward the couch. “Sit down, take a deep breath. Just relax for a minute.”

Rhett sinks into the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He feels the couch shift as Link sits down next to him. He exhales deeply, sighing out the weight that’s been pressing down on him since he woke up in the grass on Saturday. He can feel Link’s affectionate eyes surveying him. For the first time all week he feels relaxed.

“Want me to rub your chest?” Link breaks the silence and Rhett can hear the smirk on his lips.

“Shut up, man.”

That night, despite stubbing his toe on that dang coffee table twice, he sleeps better than he has all week.

By Friday he’s starting to feel like himself again. He’s still experiencing dual memories, but the edges have started to blur and it’s making him less anxious than it first did. He’s wondering if it’s not just all in his head, a reaction to stress like Link suggested it was. That night the Neal's come over for dinner, they sit outside watching the sun set, the night unseasonably cool for the summer.

Afterwards, the kids go inside to play a new video game and the girls settle into the living room to watch a show Jessie’s recently become obsessed with. He and Link sit on the patio, each with a cold bottle of beer in their hands. They don’t talk much out here, the silence a welcome change. He looks at Link and recognizes all that he has to be thankful for in this life, a feeling of contentment washing over him.

He falls asleep easily that night, and his dreams are colorful.

***

Suddenly, the sun is hot on Rhett’s face. He feels a familiar twinge in his back, causing him to roll over in bed, seeking a more comfortable position. He isn’t ready to be awake yet, the weight of a good night’s sleep threatening to drag him under again. His fingers reach out, searching for Jessie’s warm body, wanting to shake off what must be the last vestiges of a vivid dream. But Jessie isn’t there. Instead, he feels grass prickle under his fingers. A warm breeze skims his skin and it hits him: he’s definitely not in his bed. His eyes fly open and he is confronted by the bright scenery of his backyard. Soft music is playing through his phone. He sits up too quickly and his back spasms; a grunt escapes his lips and he punches at the grass next to him. His clothes feel wet with dew and he’s pretty sure he’s sunburnt.

 _Why am I out here? Was I sleepwalking?_ These seem like reasonable questions, so he gets up, slowly this time, and sets off into the house for answers.

He finds Jessie and the boys sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he passes on his way to the stove to heat up water for tea. _Wait. No. He meant to ask her something._

“When...I mean...how did I get out there?”

“What’s that, babe?” Jessie eyes him curiously as she mops up a glass of spilled milk.

“How did I get outside?”

“Um...we woke up and you went out to meditate.” Jessie’s eyes narrow as she watches him pace about the kitchen. “You must’ve had a good nap. You’ve been out there for almost two hours. And clearly you’re still a bit asleep. Want some breakfast?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Let me just use the bathroom.”

He’s halfway through the living room before he notices the small coffee table in front of the couch. He freezes. It’s _small_. The same small table he remembers buying and assembling. He’s filled with a strange mix of confusion and vindication. He runs up the stairs and tears open the door to the master bedroom. Hanging above their bed is the photograph of his happy, beautiful family, dressed in their best, smiles radiating through the frame.

He tries not to run back down the stairs, he doesn’t want to give the impression that he’s panicking, however true it may be. His mind races, trying to piece together the past week.

He leans against the doorframe, attempting to appear casual in his demeanor. “Hey Jess, do we have plans this weekend? I can’t remember...what are we up to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Tomorrow is David’s birthday party. Shepard hasn’t stopped talking about it for a week straight. I’m pretty sure they’re renting a bunch of trampolines. If we make it through the party without a trip to the ER, I’ll be shocked.”

“Right. Birthday party. Tomorrow. And am I driving Link to work on Monday?”

“I’d be surprised if you were. Is something wrong with his car? I can’t remember the last time Link didn’t pick you up.”

“Right, Link’s driving. And we’re shooting...this week...we’re shooting…”

Jessie regards him with furrowed brows, worry written across her dark features. She finishes his sentence tentatively, “ _Buddy System_?”

“Yes, of course! We’re shooting Buddy System.” He lets the words roll off his tongue a moment before he turns on his heels and flies back up toward the bedroom.

“Babe, are you…”

“Yup!” He calls out as he takes the stairs two at a time. “I’m good!”

He shuts the door behind him, and spins to sit heavily on the bed. Elbows on his knees, his fingers press into his eyes, scratch his beard, rake through his hair.

He tries to process all the information Jessie just gave him, but no matter how he twists it, nothing makes sense. One thought rings through his head:

_What the hell is happening?_

 


	2. Space & Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett finds himself in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the Rhink Summer Ficathon 2017 prompts:  
> "When was the last time you did something for the first time?"  
> "When you’re talking about passion, you’re talking about dreams, it’s not formulaic, it isn’t mathematical. That’s not how life works.”

Days after returning to his own body, memories of Rhett’s other life begin to fade, and he’s left sorting through all the theories his overactive brain invents. The one he’s most comfortable accepting is that he was dreaming. He fell asleep and woke up in exactly the same time and place, after all. How could it have been real? Perhaps a very realistic lucid dream, but certainly nothing more.

He resumes his daily routines, putting on a calm face for his loved ones, while silently reassuring himself it was all chimera, smoke and mirrors created by an excitable imagination reacting to stress and pressure.

Until two weeks later when he falls asleep in California and wakes up in New York.

It’s a Tuesday night. He crawls into bed, exhausted after a long day of shooting, and his body succumbs to sleep quickly. However, his reverie is soon interrupted by a loud car honk. _That’s odd_ , he thinks, _our street is usually so quiet_. As he rouses from sleep, he is struck by the difference in his surroundings. He’s in his bed, that’s clear, Jessie is curled up next to him, but the room is noticeably different. For one thing, it’s easily half the size of his bedroom at home. And there are so many more windows, the curtains fluttering where one was left open.

He steps out of bed, careful not to wake his sleeping wife, and tiptoes over to press his face to one of the windows. He peers out onto a cobblestone street lined with iron lamps illuminating a row of brownstones. He steps back from the window, takes a breath and scans the room around him.

It seems to him that someone has transplanted all of his belongings from LA to this new, strange location. The bedroom is set up almost exactly the same, all the furniture arranged in a similar pattern. Moving to the dresser, he finds his wallet right where he always leaves it and pulls out his driver’s licence. At the top, in bold letters, it plainly states: NEW YORK STATE. He reads the address, eyes lingering on the city name; Brooklyn.

 _Huh, I’ve always wanted to live in New York_. He notices that he is not in an immediate state of panic. In fact, he’s feeling moderately excited. He’s happy to find the rest of his family all sleeping comfortably in their beds, and as he wanders his new home, he discovers plenty of pictures to reassure him that he and Link’s relationship is essentially unaltered. An office off the hallway, just like in his other home, is full of framed awards and photos from Good Mythical Morning and Buddy System. The only thing that seems to be different is the location. He decides he can live with that. _Maybe it will be an adventure_ , he thinks as he settles back into bed.

During the ensuing week he discovers that in this place (he’s not sure what to call it yet; timeline? universe? dimension?) IFC was based out of New York, not LA, and so they moved here when the Commercial Kings opportunity arose. And much like his own universe, they stayed, working with the New York YouTube offices. The story of their lives is unchanged, the only divergence is the scenery. As the week unfurls, he becomes amazed at the consistency of his, Link’s, and their families’ relationships. The changes in circumstance and setting have had little effect on the way they relate and care for each other. Also undimmed is the passion for their work. He and Link’s commitment and enthusiasm are just as strong here as they are in his timeline. There’s something about that knowledge that gives Rhett an immense sense of comfort; no matter where he finds himself, he’s always home.

Over the course of a few months, he ends up on several more little “adventures”. It’s always similar to his trip to New York. All the familiar details of his life, just different locations; Seattle, Chicago, San Francisco, Austin. As he’s become acclimated to the process, he’s learned to read the signs, which helps make things less jarring. He recognizes the world weary heaviness he feels upon waking for what it is; his body recovering from traveling through universes. And he’s figured out some of the patterns that exist in this new reality, for instance: he always visits his alternate self for exactly one week. Then he’s plunked back into his own life as if no time has passed at all. Time between trips varies, sometimes it’s a week or two, sometimes a month, once just a day.

He hasn’t told anyone what’s been happening, though. He knows how people will react and he doesn’t want to worry anyone. He’s made the decision to believe in what’s happening, after all he’s always been the biggest champion of Multi-verse theory, so why should he deny it now that he has proof of it? He chooses to reject the idea that he is hallucinating, dreaming, or in some sort of coma state. He’s enjoying himself, feeling like a pioneer, each trip a journey into a life he could be living. He revels in the possibilities he’s finding, timidly at first, but with more and more enthusiasm as time passes. During every visit he makes excuses to go out and explore the cities they’ve settled in, dragging Link around to new restaurants and tourist spots, often under the guise of research for the show. He loves to watch each version of Link roll his eyes at his “newfound” enthusiasm for the city they’ve presumably been living in for at least six years. The knowledge that he only has a week in each universe for exploration and discovery drives his curiosity. He’s been given this gift for a reason, so he figures he should make the most of it.

***

This sense of enthusiasm sparks in him as he sits up in bed one Sunday morning, his extremities tingling from the journey through the barriers between worlds. It’s dimmed significantly as he realizes that he recognizes where he is. He knows this room; its decor, shape, and even its scent, is easily recognizable. This is his home in Fuquay-Virina, the small house he and Jessie rented for years before the move to LA.

He gets out of bed apprehensively, looking in the mirror and finding his 39 year old self staring back at him. Opening the closet reveals a swath of pastel polo shirts, flat-front khaki’s, and brown dress shoes. On the desk in the corner is a black laptop, labeled with a sticker declaring it to be property of Black & Veach. He taps the trackpad, waking the machine to reveal the date, searching for the year: 2017. A sense of dismay washes through him, he was hoping that maybe he had traveled through time and was back in the early 2000’s. He doesn’t want to know that there is a version of himself stuck in that mindless job, having never been brave enough to push himself and Link to chase their dreams.

He has no choice but to face it, though, he’s here for the next seven days whether he likes it or not. He leaves the room and can already feel himself ticking off the minutes until he can return home, this timeline a melancholy echo of what could have been his life.

The week passes slowly, and he realizes how rusty he is in his engineering skills. In all the other timelines he was working with Link on GMM and Buddy System, so he didn’t need to feign competence at his job like he does here. He gets by, though, with a bit of help from the internet. He’s always been a quick learner and a good BS artist, so he’s feeling pretty proud of the way he’s able to jump back in with only a few minor hitches. Not knowing where his office was led to an embarrassing moment, but he feels like he recovered pretty well, charming his secretary by claiming he was hungover and still half asleep.

At the end of each day he returns home to his family, and they eat dinner, watch TV, talk about their days. But he can feel the pull on his heart, he can see the dull glaze in Jessie’s eyes, subtle as it may be. They’re not happy here, not really. They’re playing at contentment, at best, and he can only guess at why that is or what it means.

On Thursday he gets a text from Link at lunchtime, cajoling him into getting a drink after work. He’s seen Link a bit this week, but not as much as he’s used to, and it’s mostly been in passing, picking up or dropping off the kids for various functions. He can feel the loss of that time together. He can't put words to it, but the absence of closeness in their relationship is tangible. He’s observant enough to read that much from the situation.

Jessie is understanding when he lets her know he’s going to be late for dinner, telling him she’ll keep a plate warm for him. For the first time all week he feels excited. He’s looking forward to some time alone with his lifelong best friend. As he’s starting up his car, he realizes that he needs it, as if he’s been underwater holding his breath for days, only coming up for short gasps before being pulled under again. He hopes that Link will be his oxygen, filling his lungs with fresh air, bringing him back to life.

He enters the bar and finds Link astride a barstool at the countertop, beer already half empty. They clap each other on the shoulders in greeting, Link’s smile warming Rhett to his core.

“Hey, brother!” Link’s southern drawl is more prominent here, his words slipping out slowly. The sound of it brings a soft grin to Rhett’s lips as he’s reminded of days spent in the sun in their youth, careening along dirt roads in Link’s truck, kicking up dust wherever they went. _Maybe being back home isn't so bad_ , he thinks as he orders a beer and sidles up alongside Link.

They trade stories from their week, Link relating a particularly frustrating encounter with his boss, commiserating over the continued practice of taking naps in their cars during lunch. The conversation is pleasant, but superficial, and Rhett again feels that tug at his heart, the missing pieces of his life glaring now in their disappearance. Though, Rhett supposes, they haven’t disappeared from here, they simply never were. That thought weighs heavy on him, and he decides that he can’t leave this universe without finding out more. He wants to fill in the gaps in the story of him and Link in this place, find out why their path never led them where they should be.

They finish their beers, and as Rhett’s paying the tab, he jostles Link’s shoulders and suggests, “Let’s go for a drive.”

“A drive? Where you wanna go right now? It’s almost 9:00, man! I gotta get home.” Link’s shaking his head at Rhett, eyebrows crinkling in amusement.

“It’ll be quick, I promise. I just wanna see something. For old time’s sake.”

“What’s gotten into you? Feeling nostalgic?”

“I guess. Just come with me. You’ll be home before 10, I promise.”

Link gives in like Rhett knew he would. This version of Link might be a little less excitable than Rhett’s used to, but he’s still the same Link, willing to follow wherever Rhett leads.

Rhett’s headlights swing down the dirt road, highlighting the trees that line the path. Rhett knows the way well, though, and could probably get them there in the dark. As soon as he pulls onto the road, he hears Link chuckle beside him.

“This is where you wanna go, buddy? You really are feeling nostalgic.”

The car comes to a rolling stop at the edge of a dense patch of trees. The two friends jump out and wordlessly make their way through the woods, no discussion of destination needed. They know where they’re headed.

Soon enough they find themselves at the edge of the river, guided by the bright light of a well lit moon. Its reflection sparkles on the river as it rages past them. They take in the sight of it and Rhett's struck with an appreciation for his home that he hasn't felt for a while. There's so much graceful beauty in the wildness of this place, something that the barren desert landscape of California lacks.

“So,” Link breaks their momentary silence, “I’m guessing you want the big rock.”

Rhett smiles into the dark, he’s comforted that even here, where so much is different, Link can still read his thoughts. He climbs up to sit on the larger boulder as Link settles on the smaller one across from him.

The air around them is quiet as Rhett chooses his words. He doesn’t want to make Link feel bad, but he hates the idea of leaving this Rhett and Link without trying to help them in some way. He wants them to be as happy and fulfilled as he and his Link are. So, he decides to say what he thinks and hopes that they can deal with the fallout after he leaves.

“What happened to us, man?” Rhett speaks softly, meeting Link’s eyes so he knows he’s serious.

“What do you mean?”

“How’d we get here, Link? Almost 40, stuck in these jobs. Are you happy, man?”

“I…” Link seems caught off guard by the question and by the intense look in Rhett’s eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“It’s a simple question. Are you happy? I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

“Sounds like someone’s having a mid-life crisis. Did something happen at work? Everything ok with you and Jessie?” Link’s face is awash with concern, regarding Rhett carefully.

“Nah, man. I’m talking about you and me. What happened? We were gonna do something great together. Something big. Don’t you remember? What about our oath?”

“You mean that silly thing we did when we were kids? We grew up, Rhett. That’s what happened. Life, responsibility, family. We both wanted all those things. We couldn’t just run off and do whatever we wanted.”

“I’m talking about dreams, I’m talking about passion. Where is that in this life?”

“I don’t know...to quote your father, ‘That’s just not realistic. You gotta live in the real world, son.’ I love my family and the life we’ve built, Rhett. I’m pretty sure you love yours, too. Where is all this coming from?”

“I just, I think we could do more. Be more. One of us just needs to push us out of our rut. So, I guess I’m pushing.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be pushed,” Link scoffs, voice raising in pitch, “Maybe I am happy with my choices. I like my life, I know what to expect and what’s expected of me. I know my role: husband, father. Those things bring me joy. I thought they did for you, too.”

Rhett softens, “They do. Of course they do. But what about ditching the formula for a moment, taking a risk? When was the last time you did something for the first time?”

There’s a weighty pause as Link considers Rhett’s question. “Gosh, I don’t even know.” Link huffs out a dry laugh at the thought, “So, what? You wanna go skydiving or something? We could plan that.”

“No, I have another idea. Hang on.” Rhett jumps up off the rock and runs to his car, smiling to himself at his idea.

“What are you doing, man?” Link shouts after him, eyes wide with wonder.

“We’re gonna do something new, Link!” He opens the trunk and pulls out a guitar, glad he had seen it earlier in the week. He walks back to the rocks with a wide smile on his face.

“You gonna serenade me? That would be something new.” Link grins up at Rhett as he watches him tune the guitar and strum out a few experimental chords. “I didn’t even know you still had that thing.”

“We’re gonna write a song, Link. Right now.” Rhett’s tone is steady, reassuring.

“What? What kind of song? D’you even remember how to play? I haven’t sung anything since we were teenagers. You said I’d be home by 10.” Link punctuates his words with a slap to Rhett’s knee, shaking his head at him.

“Just relax, buddy. What’s gonna happen if you’re back at 10:30 instead of 10? The world gonna end? Just do this for me...with me...if it’s stupid, we’ll never talk of it again. I’ll go buy a red sports car or something and forget this ever happened. Just humor me for a minute.”

Link holds his hands up in surrender, “Alright. What d’you have in mind? What are we gonna sing about?”

Rhett thinks for a moment, smiling as the memory of their early songwriting days returns to him. “How ‘bout Walmart?”

***

They jump back into the car, Link’s eyes wild with excitement, “That was good, man. Like, I feel really good about it. We’re pretty funny.”

“Yeah, sometimes we are.” Rhett pulls back out onto the road, not able to hide his grin. He feels as though something has clicked. He senses that the universe has a plan; he was not given this ability randomly and without reason. A feeling of purpose swells in him. He was sent here on a mission, he realizes, to set these two on a different path, wake them from their complacency.

“So, what do we do now? We gonna sing at, like, kids birthday parties or something?”

“Let’s start by singing it for Christy and Jessie, see what they think? Then maybe we upload it to YouTube or something.”

“YouTube?” Link’s voice is full of skepticism.

“What? Yeah, that’s a thing that people do.”

“People, sure, but 40 year old men? I can see it now: Engineers by day, entertainers by night. Who’s gonna watch us, brother?”

“I honestly don’t know, but isn’t it worth trying? What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Everyone could laugh at us.”

“Didn’t you just hear the song we wrote? I’m pretty sure that’s our goal.”

The next couple of days pass quickly and Rhett is almost sad to know that he’ll be leaving soon. There’s an energy here now that reminds him of the early days of he and Link’s career. The rush of excitement that comes with trying something new, taking a risk. He doesn’t feel that much anymore and he wants to stay longer and experience it again.

On Saturday they play their song for their families, and Rhett can see the spark in their eyes, too. He’s not sure how far this Rhett and Link will be able to go with what he’s given them. 2017 is a very different time and place than 2006, especially when it comes to entertainment on the internet. But Rhett is hopeful that it will lead them to discover something new about themselves and their friendship. As he falls asleep that night he feels grateful that he was able to come here and do his small part to open the door of possibility.

***  
Soft sunlight filters through the curtains, and Rhett feels a breeze from an open window. He inhales, feeling heavy enough to sink through the mattress, and knows that he’s traveled again. Before opening his eyes, he takes a moment to appreciate all that his life has brought him. He decides that this week he’s going to take some time to enjoy everything he has. He wants to hold everyone he cares about a little tighter, be a little kinder to everyone at work, especially Link. If anything has become clear to him this week, it’s that he and Link’s partnership is not to be taken for granted.

He rolls over, reaching out for the warmth of the body next to him. Eyes still closed, he scoots in close and presses a kiss into the dark mop of hair he finds resting on the pillow. The body in his arms spins to face him and presses in for a soft kiss.

“Mornin’.”

Rhett freezes. _That’s not Jessie_. His eyes fly open and he watches as a shirtless and sleepy Link presses in for another quick kiss. He wraps his arms around Rhett’s waist and nuzzles into his chest before falling back to sleep.

Rhett stares at the ceiling, heart beating wildly, unsure of what to do.

 _Well, this is new._  

 

 

 

 


	3. Energy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't be friends for thirty years without thinking about these kinds of possibilities, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the Rhink Summer Ficathon prompt:
> 
>  _I never understood what was at stake_  
>  _I never thought your love was worth the wait_  
>  _Well now you’ve come and gone_  
>  _I finally worked it out, I worked it out_  
>  -Vance Joy, Georgia

 

  
Link’s head is heavy on his chest. Who knew a person’s head could be so heavy? Rhett blinks up at the ceiling, plotting his next move. He senses that Link is deeply asleep, his arms are wrapped tightly around Rhett’s waist, his mouth is open and hot breath spills across Rhett’s thin cotton shirt.

In the absence of coherent thought, Rhett notices small details he would normally overlook. Like the small streaks of grey peppering Link’s hair. They shine in the early morning light, reminding Rhett of their age. He thinks about the way time can seem to stretch and slow one moment, then speed without warning, until you are suddenly hurtling toward middle age still feeling like a teenager. He watches the rise and fall of his own chest, Link’s whole upper body following the curve of it, riding the undulations like a wave. His eyes trace the lines of Link’s back, skimming the shadow of his spine where it slips under the sheet.

Nipping at the edge of his thoughts is panic. He recognizes it, tries to push it away, knowing that he needs to keep his cool. But he’d be lying if he said he was prepared for this situation. Not that it hasn't crossed his mind, of course it has, you can’t be friends for thirty years without thinking about these kind of possibilities, right? His mind drifts to he and his Link, around nine years old, lying in the tall grass, bikes sprawled out on the dirt road. They’re watching the clouds, talking about whatever nine year olds talk about. They lay with knobby knees touching, bouncing into each other with the excitation of the conversation, thoughts punctuated with elbow jabs and taps of their feet. And at some point, who knows when, their fingers touched and became intertwined, lightly at first, then slowly with more conviction. There was no thought in it, no intention, just a need to be close to someone you loved. Two boys out in a pasture, holding hands, discussing the clouds.

There are other moments he could ruminate on, if now were the time for ruminating. But it’s not. He slips out of Link’s grip as smoothly as he can, trying his best not to disturb his slumber. He needs a minute alone to process what’s happening, where he is, what his plan should be. He definitely needs a plan.

In the bathroom he finds a few clues about the path this Rhett and Link have taken. Undoubtedly, this is their shared home. In the drawers and in the shower he finds his favorite hair and grooming products mixed in with Link’s. Everything is meticulously organized and clean, Link’s influence, he guesses. On the wall is a framed picture of he and Link and their children. It’s clear this is a family portrait, they are all seated on the grass, Rhett’s arm around Link’s shoulders. Their five children, all accounted for, are sprawled around them, dressed in white, glowing golden in the afternoon sunlight. There are questions that nag at him, he wants all the information that this one picture is unable to provide.

He washes his face, then stares down his reflection in the mirror. He’s feeling unsteady, knowing that once he opens the door he needs to be able to behave as this Rhett would. He has to be able to quell the anxious thoughts and lingering questions in order to be able to successfully convince everyone he belongs here. His worst fear is that he would disturb the natural equilibrium of the place due to his hesitancy to accept it as real. He decides that an open mind and heart are his best strategy. The universe sent him here for a reason, right? What will he learn by fighting it?

Once he has calmed a bit he gives himself a final nod in the mirror, assuring himself that he can do this, then opens the door. He finds Link awake, sitting up in bed, flicking through his phone. Rhett leans into the doorjamb attempting to appear casual, arms folded as he takes in more of the room around him. It’s decorated cleanly, touches of dark grey and white fabric mingling with Danish modern pieces. There’s a sense of calm permeating the space, it’s sparse but welcoming, clean yet lived in. He can almost remember what it must have been like to pick out the furniture and artwork, how they probably squabbled over little details. Rhett can tell that Link won most of the decorating debates; he sees Link all around him, in the muted color scheme, in the black and white photographs on the wall above their bed, and in the meticulously organized closet. As his eyes finish their tour around the room, they land again on Link, who has set his phone down and is watching Rhett with soft eyes. Rhett feels something stir in him as they make eye contact for the first time, but he sets it aside, not willing to put a name to it just yet.

“Hey.” Link’s voice is deeper than usual, still tinged with a sleepy drawl.

“Hey.”

“You’re up early.”

“Am I? What time is it?” Rhett looks around for a clock, his sense of time is off.

“Seven. You usually make such a fuss if I don’t let you sleep until at least ten on Sundays.”

“Guess I couldn’t sleep.”

“Bad dream?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Rhett watches as Link steps out of bed. He stretches for a moment before making his way toward the bathroom door. Placing one hand on Rhett’s still folded forearm, he presses up for a light kiss. Rhett has no choice but to give in to it, allow it to happen. He can’t fight it, right?

Link’s hand drags down his arm until his fingers connect with Rhett's. Rhett takes note of the band around Link’s ring finger, filing it away with his other unanswered questions. Link tugs at Rhett's hand, swinging it playfully as he steps up into the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” There’s a beat as he holds eye contact, raising an eyebrow with a smirk on his face. “You coming?” He cocks his head and pulls at Rhett’s hand again.

Rhett struggles to respond. He wasn’t expecting to face this reality quite so soon. His plan starts to falter as Link’s hands move to his waist and he crowds in closer. _Words, Rhett, say words!_

“Oh, uh...you know...I’m not feeling so great. I really didn’t sleep very well. I think I need to eat something. Pancakes, maybe, do you want pancakes?”

“You sure? I bet I could make you feel better…” Link appears to not have heard the rising pitch in Rhett's voice, or if he did he ignores it. His hands gather and pull at Rhett’s shirt, and Rhett’s back grazes the wall behind him. He feels trapped, but doesn’t want to offend Link, whose eyes are bright and caring, a devilishly sweet grin creeping across his face. So he reaches up to cup Link’s face, and leans in to press a tentative kiss on his forehead. Rhett’s internally startled by how easy it is to fall into this version of himself, how natural it feels to graze his thumb over Link’s cheek as he speaks.

“Rain check? You know I can’t ignore my stomach once it starts making demands. You shower and I promise a stack of peanut butter pancakes will be waiting when you get out.”

Link appears to mull over Rhett’s suggestion, smoothing Rhett’s shirt under his fingers. Eventually he backs away with an overly exaggerated sigh. “I guess if I have to trade shower sex for anything, peanut butter pancakes are a pretty good offer.”

Rhett feels himself blush as the word _sex_ leaves Link’s mouth. He shakes his head at himself, he’s heard Link talk like that, of course he has, but the context here is slightly different. He suddenly feels like a child again, hearing dirty words whispered on the playground, passed around like secrets. There’s something thrilling about the novelty of this place that is leaving him equally unnerved and excited. _Excited_? Is that the word he really wants to use? He sets that thought aside, too, hoping that ignoring it will make it gently fade away.

* * *

 

Rhett makes good on his promise and within the hour he has churned out several plates full of fluffy pancakes. The rest of the house has been roused by the smell of breakfast and Rhett soon finds himself overwhelmed by the noise that accompanies a seven person household. He doles out jobs to all the kids, having them set the table and rinse the dishes. Rhett watches with amusement. If he didn’t know better this could be any Sunday in his own timeline at either of the Neal or the McLaughlin residences. There are a couple of notable absences, but Rhett feels their presence. Their smiles and expressions are all over the faces of the kids who are in every way identical to the ones he knows and loves so well.

Again, his curiosity is a pest, buzzing in his ears, pushing him for answers. He wants to jump up on the table and shout questions at the top of his lungs, but that’s not really a possibility. Not if he wants to blend in here, anyway. He hopes that maybe he’ll be able to access his doppelgänger’s memories, that if he concentrates hard enough they’ll just appear to him. This, too, is fairly unlikely since it hasn’t happened in any of the other places he’s visited, and especially since this timeline seems fairly divergent from his own. Maybe one of them has kept a detailed journal of the last twenty years. He’ll have to look later if he gets any time alone.

They all are just settling in at the table when Link emerges from the bedroom, hair still wet and floppy on his head, his black t-shirt tight across his shoulders. Breakfast is filled with frenzied conversations about a range of topics, from favorite (and least favorite) teachers at school, to plans for the upcoming week, to why Sheperd should return Lando’s favorite toy that he has hidden somewhere in the house. It’s a remarkably domestic scene, Rhett at one end of the table, Link at the other, plates passing, silverware clinking. During it all, Rhett is relatively quiet, taking it all in, observing the dynamics of this family that feels so familiar to him. He can’t help but feel like an intruder, peering over a wall that he’s not sure he even knew existed until this moment. Suddenly it’s all too much, his heart starts to race and he feels dizzy.

He excuses himself from the table under the guise of needing more coffee. In the kitchen, he leans on the sink, lowering his head onto his hands, taking a breath. As he stands, he feels Link’s hand cover one of his. He hadn’t heard him come up next to him and looks at him in surprise.

“Sorry...I didn’t mean to scare you. You just...everything ok? You look pale.” Link reaches up to touch Rhett’s face, smoothing his thumb over his cheek, mirroring Rhett’s gesture from earlier.

“Oh, yeah, sorry...like I said, I’m feeling a little weird this morning,” He looks down at Link’s face, it’s expression conveying nothing but care and concern, “I just…” he pauses, unable to express what he’s feeling or why he’s feeling it, “our family is beautiful.”

Link huffs out a little laugh, “Yeah, I guess it is. You just noticing that now?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes are soft, playful.

“No, I just...I never…” Rhett’s voice trails off as he realizes that he’s not sure what he’s trying to say.

“What?”

“Nothing...nevermind. Ignore me. I think I just need a nap.”

“Well, too bad. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. You gotta get it together, McLaughlin.” Link smirks up at him and gives his ass a little smack. “The girls are gonna be here any minute to get the kids.”

“The girls?”

“Yes, please don’t tell me you forgot. Jessie and Christy,” Rhett feels his heart jump at their names, “are taking the kids to Locke’s game and you and I are fixing that dang window. Then we have the video call with that producer to map out the shooting schedule for the next few weeks.”

Rhett’s not sure what to make of the clues Link just gave him. He adds these new pieces to his rapidly growing pile of information.

Link’s right, the day is busy. Jessie and Christy arrive in a whirlwind around ten o’clock to pick up the kids. Rhett watches them closely during the flurry of activity, trying to fit together the puzzle pieces in his mind. As they are walking out the door, he notices Christy’s hand on the small of Jessie’s back. The gesture would likely go unnoticed by a casual observer, but to Rhett it speaks loudly. That’s his move, at home he’s the protector, it’s his hand on Jessie’s back. He should feel jealous, he thinks, but he doesn’t. He’s happy just to see that someone, especially someone he loves as much as Christy, is taking care of her in that way. Also, he’s pretty sure he has ushered Link out a door in that same way once or twice. _Hmm_.

The rest of the day is lost to errands and meetings. Rhett feels himself sink into the normalcy of this life, committing himself to tasks as Link provides them, checking things off their lists. Everyone is back home in time for dinner and the nine of them eat around the big table in the dining room. A bottle of wine is shared between the four adults, and they sit low in their seats, cheeks flushing as the stress of the day leaves them.

The conversation is lively, a comfortable reminder that though the dynamics here have shifted a bit from his reality, there is no dearth of love shared between them all. Rhett feels warm, which he attributes to the wine. But if he were to look closely he'd notice something else creeping through him, working its way into his heart. If he were forced to have to label it, the only word for it would be _envy_.

* * *

 

Rhett finds this timeline is just as busy, if not more so, than his own. Monday passes into Tuesday and then into Wednesday in a blur of work, pick-ups and drop-offs, grocery shopping, making dinner. Rhett appears to be the chef of the the house, readying breakfasts and lunches in the morning and whipping up semi-elaborate dinners in the evening. Link keeps them all organized, on schedule, and tidy. Each time Rhett makes a mess in the kitchen, Link is right there cleaning up after him.

At night they fall into bed content in their exhaustion. It’s not the first time Rhett has shared a bed with Link, but the cuddling is certainly new for him. Link hasn’t made any more suggestions about shower activities or anything similar, probably due to their busy days, but there has been no shortage of physical contact. Rhett knows this is how Link shows affection, he’s seen him do it at home with Christy thousands of times. He’s always been careful around Rhett, though, at least since they began to grow into their adult selves. In their youth, before they grew awkward and overly self-aware, they touched a lot. Rhett remembers the sleepovers, scooting their sleeping bags closer together, waking up with limbs entwined. Memories of bouts of rough-housing devolving into giggle fits and someone’s mom barging in still feel fresh in his mind.

But sleeping in bed with Link here is different. He likes to get close, resting his head on Rhett’s shoulder as they discuss the events of the day. His fingers wander Rhett’s body without any real intention. Rhett’s skin overreacts to each touch, Link’s fingers leaving little trails of goosebumps wherever they travel. At first Rhett is hesitant to reciprocate, but after a day or so he gives in, pulling Link closer and returning his touches with ease. In some ways it feels second nature, as if here this aspect of their relationship was allowed to continue and flourish whereas in his world it was cut short, repressed by a desire to conform, fit in. He wonders what would happen if he tried to work in a little extra physical contact at home. Maybe they need to work more hugs into their daily routine.

* * *

On Thursday there’s a lull in their schedule in the middle of the day so they send their staff out for a long lunch. He and Link order in from a favorite local Thai place and enjoy eating in the quiet of their office. Rhett’s just finishing his noodles when he feels a hand push his shoulder back into the cushion of the couch.

Before he has time to react Link is crawling into his lap, sitting on his knees, and running his fingers through Rhett's hair.

“This week has been so crazy. I’ve missed you.” Link slides down further into his lap, leaning in close, whispering against Rhett’s ear. “Everyone’s gone for at least 45 more minutes.”

His fingers scratch through Rhett’s beard, tipping his chin up so Rhett has no choice but to meet Link’s eyeline. Without warning, Link presses in for a kiss. Most of the kisses they’ve shared this week have been short, somewhat perfunctory. Hello and goodbye and goodnight kisses. Rhett’s gotten used to them, knows how to handle them. This kiss is different. It’s deep and wet and messy. Link’s hands are everywhere, it seems, clawing through Rhett’s hair, pawing at his shirt, grazing the waistband of his pants.

Rhett’s body engages before his mind and he finds himself leaning into it, matching Link’s movements before he really knows what’s happening. His hands are strong on Link’s waist, gripping in tighter and tighter, thumbs brushing his ribs.

His thoughts drift to his Link and Jessie, and he suddenly feels as though he’s being unfaithful to both of them. He doesn’t want to upset this Link by rejecting him, and he can’t deny that he feels something growing in himself, too. He tells himself it’s just a physical reaction, but he knows that’s not true. There have always been traces of feelings under the surface of he and Link’s friendship, coursing beneath it like groundwater. It has fed their bond, helped it grow strong, but even a tiny crack in the surface could have lead to an eruption that neither of them would have known how to stem. Here, though, it flows freely and Rhett feels like a piece of his heart has been unlocked. Rhett wonders how they did it, which one of them was brave enough to make the first move.

These thoughts race through him as Link’s tongue traces the outline of his ear. He tells himself he should pull away, but the universe sent him here for a reason, and he’s determined to follow its path. Also, Link’s tongue feels really good. For all intents and purposes, he is this Rhett and this Rhett is allowed to do what he’s doing. He sits up and winds his fingers into the belt loops of Link’s jeans, watching his face closely.

“Hey baby…” Link’s voice is sweet, but his eyes are lustful, tracing Rhett’s lips as he licks his own.

Rhett feels lost, the break in momentum causes him to falter. He wants...well, he’s not sure what he wants.

“I…”

“What, baby, what are you thinking about? I can see those wheels turning. Stop thinking so much, just sit back,” he pushes Rhett’s shoulders back into the couch, “and let me make you feel good.”

He wants to know what exactly Link plans on doing to make him _feel good_. He slips his hand up the back of Link’s shirt, fingertips walking up the hollow of his spine. Link’s hips press down into him causing Rhett’s breath to catch in his throat. Rhett closes his eyes and rests his head back on the cushion. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and Link must feel it, too, as he places a hand on Rhett’s chest.

“You're awfully excitable today. Good to know I've still got it.” Rhett opens his eyes just in time to watch Link waggle his eyebrows and flash a bright smile at him.

Rhett laughs deep in his chest and pulls Link in tighter, guiding him down for a soft kiss. Just as the kiss starts to turn deeper, needier, there’s a loud knock at the door.

Stevie’s voice bounces across the room as she opens the door and pokes her head in.

“Hey, guys, we’re back a little early - oh! Sorry!”

She backs out and shuts the door softly. Rhett’s embarrassment must read on his face because Link bursts into giggles, his laughter ringing high and clear. Rhett thinks it might be the best sound he's ever heard. He decides not to dwell too much on that thought.

They untangle from each other after a few more messy kisses and whispered promises of how they'll make up for this lost moment. Rhett has to sort himself out in the bathroom, simultaneously questioning his decisions and smiling like a teenager giddy after their first kiss.

Somehow they make it through the rest of the day without dying of embarrassment every time they look at Stevie. Her professionalism is paramount, though, and no one else seems to be privy to what she almost walked in on that afternoon. Link, for his part, refrains from making any _afternoon delight_ jokes in her presence and for that Rhett thanks him.

That night, Lando has a bad dream and crawls into bed with them, so they never get to realize any of the promises they swore to each other on the couch. Rhett’s silently grateful for that fact, he got swept up in the intensity of the moment and isn’t sure how far he’s comfortable taking things, physically or emotionally. He’s overwhelmed by this universe. He feels split in two, part of him ready to jump off the cliff and see where he lands, part of him hesitating at the edge, peering over, uncertain. There’s so much to process and not enough time to do it. He has trouble sleeping and when he finally does his dreams are anxious, fevered, and confusing.

* * *

 

The next morning, just after breakfast, Rhett is standing in the middle of the bedroom staring at his phone. He’s been there a while with the phone in his hand, motionless, as if stuck on pause. The notification on the screen took him by surprise and he’s not sure what to do with it. It’s from his Calendar, and all it says is _Date Night_ followed by a series of multi-colored heart emojis. His first thought is _what a couple of dorks_ , but then the reality of what _Date Night_ might mean starts to dawn on him.

If it’s in their Calendars, set with reminders, that means it’s been planned. There are probably babysitters involved, maybe reservations have been made. A variety of implications accompany this kind of planned one-on-one event. He thinks back to the moment on the couch, how easy it was for him to get swept up in whatever it is he seems to be feeling.

Link teases him throughout the day, loving the way Rhett blushes at the slightest innuendo. He gives him little clues about what he has planned, dropping hints about the restaurant, what he plans on wearing, how good Rhett always looks when he gets dressed up. He lets slip that he loves watching other people watch them as they walk by, their eyes scanning Rhett. He loves knowing that everyone knows that Rhett’s all his.

And indeed, they do look pretty good all dressed up. Rhett decides on a soft grey suit, the pants lined with delicate plaid. He almost stops breathing when Link steps out of the bedroom. Rhett had been taunting him from the living room about how long he was taking to get ready, but he’s silenced at the sight of him. Link’s wearing a bright blue suit, nearly electric, the fabric a subtly shiny satin. His shirt is bright white, unbuttoned at the top. The color of the suit plays up his eyes, brightens his whole face. Rhett’s struck with the beauty of him. Link, for his part, smiles goofily and asks, “You like what you see, big man?”

* * *

 

They arrive at the restaurant and are seated outside at a little table complete with flickering candle and white linen. It couldn’t be any more romantic if it tried. It’s warm, of course, it’s always warm in LA, and the patio is full of patrons. The sun is just about to set and the sky is lit with brilliant shades of blues and purples. Slung from the edges of the roof are strings of lights, their bare bulbs casting warm orange-y light over the whole scene, setting the stage for what’s about to unfold.

Rhett settles into his seat and accepts the small menu that’s offered to him. They order cocktails, fancy whiskey drinks served in fancy whiskey glasses. Meals are ordered, though Rhett can’t remember what he chose, there’s a buzz in his ears that is threatening to drown out all logical thought. It must be the whiskey, he thinks, not the way Link is holding his hand across the table. It certainly can’t be the way Link’s looking at him, or how he suddenly feels a desire to cancel their meals and find some quiet, dark place to press Link up against a wall. It’s just a really strong drink.

In the background a band plays softly, bouncing their way through contemporary songs rearranged to jazz rhythms. They are served their food and they eat it, Rhett realizing halfway through that he’s never cared less about what he’s eating than right now. He just wants to finish and move on to whatever it is might come next.

As their plates are being cleared Rhett hears a familiar melody drift across the patio. He watches as a few couples dance slowly in front of the band, creating their own makeshift dance floor around the tables. Rhett stands and extends his hand out to Link, nodding in the direction of the other couples.

“C’mon, I know this one.”

Link laughs up at him, “You cannot be serious. You wanna slow dance? In front of people? Who are you? Where’s my husband?”

Rhett’s breath stops for a moment at that last word, _husband_. It finally hits him what he’s doing here. If all things in the Multi-verse are possible, they are made true because someone imagined it. Maybe it’s because their fans have so many theories about their relationship, or maybe it’s simply due to the infinite number of choices a person could make in a lifetime. But deep down Rhett knows this universe exists as it does because either he or Link dreamed it into being. That there’s always been a part of both of them that has wished that this reality could have been theirs. He feels grateful that he was sent here to experience it, but torn apart knowing that he has to leave. Not that he doesn’t love the life he has, he does, he’s thankful for it every day, but if he had it all to do over again, knowing what he knows now, he’s not sure what he’d choose.

He decides right then and there to make the most of the time he has left in this world. He wants to jump off the cliff, despite what the cost might be. He’s all in for the next 24 hours.

Link finishes scoffing at Rhett’s proposal and takes his hand, eyeing him mischievously. They make their way to the side of the stage, a bit hidden in the shadow and Rhett wraps his arm around Link’s waist as they start to sway to the sound of the delicate guitar.

“What brought this on? Usually you hate slow dancing. I practically had to force you onto the dance floor at our own wedding.” Link curls his arm around Rhett’s bicep, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade. “Not that I’m complaining, I’m just curious.” They spin in a small circle, Rhett taking the lead.

“I told you, I know this song,” Rhett pauses to listen for the melody, “This line goes, _And I could easily lose my mind,_ ” his falsetto whispers into Link’s ear, causing him to shiver a bit, “ _The way you kiss me will work each time...something, something...into the flames_. Well,” he chuckles softly, lips still grazing Link’s ear, “I kind of know it. Oh, then it’s _And I never understood what was at stake,_ ” he pulls back to look Link in the eye, to say everything he’s never said to his Link, “ _I never thought your love was worth it’s wait_ -”

Rhett’s cut off by Link raising up onto his toes to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. They stop swaying, lost in each other, not even noticing when the song ends. Quiet applause ripples around them, but all they hear is the deafening sound of the other’s heart beating. Link pulls back, breaking out of Rhett’s embrace, guiding him back toward the table.

“C’mon, tiger, let’s go home.” Rhett decides he could get used to Link’s little pet names. He’s full of decisions tonight.

* * *

 

They’re barely inside the door before Rhett has Link up against it. The kids are all at Christy and Jessie’s for the night, and the house is cool, dark, and quiet. For a few moments they are nothing but a tangle of limbs and frantic breaths. Rhett’s hands slip into Link’s jacket, up over his shoulders, easing it off to drop onto the floor. He slides his fingers down the expanse of Link’s crisp white shirt, unbuttoning as he goes.

Link watches Rhett watching him. He sees Rhett trail his eyes down his chest and back up again. They are caught in the eye of a storm for a brief second, both wanting to slow down and acknowledge the other’s desire. Rhett knows he must look desperate, hungry, the darkness of his eyes is reflected on Link’s face.

The moment of calm is over before it even starts as they crash back into each other. Rhett pulls at Link’s belt as Link pushes him backwards, counterbalancing their way towards the stairs. More articles of clothing are lost on their way up, telling the story of their arousal.

On the third step Link needed to feel the warmth of Rhett’s skin.

On the fifth, Rhett _finally_ figured out how belts work.

On the eighth, ninth, and tenth, shoes were no longer necessary.

Eventually, they find themselves on the landing, shirtless and shoeless, Link’s pants undone and his hair disheveled. They careen towards the bedroom, joined at the mouth, as Link guides Rhett back onto the bed, crawling over him to sit in his lap. He seems intent on picking up where they left off in the office on Thursday. Rhett starts to sit up, trying his best to gain even a little control, but Link pushes him back down, wagging a finger in his face.

“Close your eyes. Stay there.”

Rhett obeys, giving himself over. Link presses his palms into his chest, dragging his nails down Rhett’s sides, leaving pink trails in sensitive skin. He soothes the sting with his tongue as he reaches up, tapping at Rhett’s lips, asking for entrance.

Rhett is overwhelmed, his pulse crazy under his skin. He needs a tether, something to bring him back down when he floats too high. He sits up abruptly so they are chest to chest and pulls Link in for a deep kiss, then backs away, leaning on his elbows.

“Hey…” Rhett’s struggles to find his voice.

“Hey yourself. I thought I told to you close your eyes and stay. Are we playing this game tonight? Do you need to be shown how to listen?”

 _Jesus_. Rhett finds himself speechless at the suggestion in Link’s words. He needs that tether _now_.

“No, no...I...just...hang on a sec.” He takes a deep breath and cups Link’s face with his hands. “I want you -”

“Well, that’s pretty clear...” Link takes the opportunity to drag along the edge of Rhett’s pants, circling his growing arousal with light fingers. It takes everything in him not to gasp at the touch.

“No...I mean, _yeah_ , but...I kinda want to take it slow? Can we do that? I just want...” finding the right words is hard for Rhett at this point, “Let’s pretend it’s our first time.” He leans in for another kiss, but Link talks into his mouth, smirking around his words.

“Well, that wasn’t slow. If you wanna act that out we’re gonna need a few shots of tequila, a bad DJ, and a very small bathroom.”

Rhett loses himself in that mental image for a moment, tracing large flat circles on the smooth skin of Link’s back. He almost wishes he could freeze time right here, just stop and live the rest of his life in this moment. Link in his arms, skin on skin, pressing kisses into his collarbones.

“But, if you want slow, we can do slow. You’re still gonna need to follow directions. Can you do that?”

Rhett nods vigorously.

“Ok, like I said, lie back and relax.”

Again, Rhett obeys, but this time he feels like he’s caught his breath, his mind is clear.

Link starts with his hands, drawing a line down the middle of Rhett’s chest. He shifts so he’s on his side, curled up into Rhett, allowing more freedom in his movements. He builds Rhett up at a near excruciatingly slow pace. His mouth is on his neck, breathing, biting, tasting his sweat. Rhett works at keeping himself calm, focused on breathing deep and low. He can’t help the sound that escapes him when Link simultaneously digs his teeth into Rhett’s earlobe and pulls at his zipper.

Link swings himself up to straddle Rhett’s hips again, melting into him, hands at his neck as he kisses him deep and wet. Rhett does as he’s told and his eyes stay closed, but he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to keep that up. He wants to look Link in the eye. He knows this may be his only chance and he needs to watch it all unfold.

Link scoots himself down the long length of Rhett’s body, using his mouth as he goes. He plants kisses in the soft hair on Rhett’s abdomen, but they take root in his heart. Rhett feels each one like it’s a knife, cutting through him, opening him up, revealing what’s inside. He opens his eyes to find Link already looking up at him, a dark shadowy look dancing across his face.

“This slow enough?” He cocks his head, teasing, and proceeds to draw every last breath out of Rhett as he drags his tongue across the skin just above the waistband of his briefs, from hip to hip.

Rhett looks at him, tracing all the features of his face. He wants to record this moment, burn it into his mind’s eye, save it for his return home. He feels lucky that he is able to experience this at all, this beautiful man who calls him husband, working so hard to please him, love him, take care of him. He blinks away his fears and apprehension as Link takes him in his mouth, slicking down further and further. He comes like that, tears in his eyes, one hand gripping the sheet, the other tangled in Link’s soft hair, every inch of him on fire.

They lay in sticky silence for a while, Rhett offering lazy propositions of reciprocation, but Link shushes him, bats his hands away and coaxes him into sleep.

* * *

Saturday is difficult. Rhett thrums with nervous energy throughout the day. There are games to attend, errands to run, appointments to keep. But envy is a salacious beast and Rhett is alive with it. Not that he doesn’t love his home, his own life, he does, but this world has opened him up to what is possible and he wants desperately to stay, even for just a few more days.

So he clings to Link throughout the day, refusing to leave his side. He presses in close as often as he can, holding him tight. There’s little opportunity for alone time, but Rhett takes whatever he can get, stealing kisses here and there, holding Link’s hand while they’re driving from place to place. He watches him and their family during dinner, appreciating the sight of them all gathered together. Link cracks jokes at the kids expense and Rhett laughs louder than he ever has before.

Lying in bed that night, Rhett hangs onto consciousness for as long as possible. He wonders what would happen if he just stayed up all night. Would he get to stay? He fights sleep for as long as he can, breathing in the soft scent of Link’s hair. He begs for just one more day, sending up a silent unanswered prayer. But those aren’t the rules, and by three o’clock in the morning he’s slipped under, exhaustion winning out.

He wakes a few hours later in his own bed, the familiar shape of his wife next to him. He’s happy to be home, he is, but he can’t help but feel that it’ll never really be the same.

He remembers the last words of the song he and Link danced to yesterday, the ones he kissed out of Rhett’s mouth, _Well now you’ve come and gone, I’ve finally worked it out. I worked it out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took forever, it was surprisingly difficult for me to write. Hopefully the next won't take quite as long, but I make no promises ;)


	4. Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been nearly three weeks since he returned, but it feels like months. The lack of sleep hasn’t helped with his restlessness. Each time he wakes in a cold sweat he remembers the feel of Link’s skin under the pads of his fingers. Staring into the dark of the room he’s burned by the memory of the look in Link’s eye as they danced under the changing purple sky.

_“Listen.”_

_The voice is muffled as if he’s hearing someone speak underwater._

_The sound of rain. The ringing of church bells._

_He’s waiting._

_He hears the wind as it whips through the trees on a crisp fall day. The satisfying crunch of leaves underfoot._

_He’s been here before._

_Running, out of breath. His limbs are slow, sticky, stuck, like he’s moving through molasses._

_He’s a stranger here. It looks like his home, but it feels foreign. The lights are too bright and the voices too loud._

_He spins, out of control. The world shifts out of focus and he can feel his pulse beat through his thin skin._

_He needs out. So he climbs. Up the tallest tree he can find. The bark scratches at his skin where it’s exposed, the sap dries between his fingers. He climbs higher, clearing the treeline. He clings to the trunk, nestles into the branches. The curve of the Earth bends away from him, the sea of trees stretching to the horizon._

_He knows what it means, feels the roots of the tree grow deep into the ground. He releases his fear as he crawls out onto further on his branch. He takes a deep breath and without looking down, he jumps._

* * *

 

Rhett wakes with a start. Sitting up, he dangles his long legs over the edge of the bed. Flattening a palm across his chest, he feels his heart racing. His shirt clings to his back, damp with sweat.

The dreams are nearly a nightly occurrence these days. The details of each are different, but the feeling he’s left with is always the same.

Before getting up he glances over at Jessie, who’s still sound asleep. Part of him wants to reach out to her, curl up into her, feel her warmth. But the louder part of him wants to run.

He grabs his gear from the clean laundry basket and slips into the bathroom to change. This has become his daily routine. Bad dream, wake in a panic, sneak out of bed, go for a run, pretend everything is fine. He’s running from his own feelings, seeking self-preservation.

It’s been nearly three weeks since he returned, but it feels like months. The lack of sleep hasn’t helped with his restlessness. Each time he wakes in a cold sweat he remembers the feel of Link’s skin under the pads of his fingers. Staring into the dark of the room he’s burned by the memory of the look in Link’s eye as they danced under the changing purple sky.

He thought he could leave it behind. He thought he’d made peace with the feelings that the other universe stirred in him. The gift he had been given was temporary, he had understood that. But as the days here have stretched on, he’s started to feel the weight of what he’s lost. The dreams are reminders of the part of himself he left there.

His story for Jessie is that he’s just on a health kick, purposefully waking early to go for dawn runs. He tells her that he likes the quiet of the streets before anyone’s awake. She’s not convinced, he’s sure she can see right through him. He knows he’s not fooling anyone, especially not himself.

He doesn’t want to lie to the people he loves, but how can he tell the truth? And who would he tell it to? Would anyone believe him? And if they did, would they forgive him?

It’s not any easier at work. At the very least he’s thankful that it’s been busy. The breakneck pace of shooting coupled with meetings and promo has left little room for one on one time with Link. Being near him is simultaneously exhilarating and terrifying. He feels like a teenager with a crush half the time, blushing any time there’s accidental physical contact. He doesn’t trust himself around his best friend, so he tries to avoid him as much as possible.

He’s taken to making up excuses for leaving early, finding reasons not to carpool. He’s been able to milk his sore throat for all it’s worth, claiming to have multiple doctor’s appointments over the course of a few weeks. He doesn’t know how to go back to being this version of Rhett, the Rhett who was asleep.

He catches himself staring, eyes drifting to the curl of hair that absently falls into Link’s face as he plunks away at his keyboard. More than anything he wants to cross the space of the room and wind his fingers into that mess of hair. He wants to tilt Link’s face up and stare into those cloudless blue eyes before kissing him deep and hard. He wants so many things that he simply can’t have.

* * *

 

On more than one occasion, he’s been caught drifting out of the conversation, getting lost in the shape of Link’s mouth as he speaks.

“Hey!”

He’s jostled out of his daydream by Link smacking him in the shoulder. His startled eyes meet Link’s, whose face is clouded in exasperation.

“What is with you, man?”

“What?” Rhett can feel his face reddening. His drifting thoughts had not been entirely wholesome and he’s worried that Link saw the glassy look in his eyes and recognized his visible lust.

“I feel like I’m talking to a wall lately. Or worse, like I’m talking to myself. Where is your mind?”

Under the obvious annoyance, Rhett hears the concern in Link’s voice. He wants to give him something, share what he’s going through. He’s never lied to Link like this before, even if it’s only a lie of omission. He wants to share his adventure with him, like they’ve shared everything else. But he doesn’t know where to begin. So much of what he’d say would come out sounding insane. He doesn’t know how to form the words, so instead he aims to distract.

“Sorry. I was just thinkin’. Do you remember that amazing summer we spent doing nothing? Before we had jobs, but we were too old for camp? We rode our bikes to the river every day and just hung out?”

Link mulls over Rhett’s words for a moment and Rhett can tell he’s trying to decide whether or not to follow him down this train of thought.

“Yeah...of course. That was the summer I got this scar,” Link pulls up his sleeve to reveal his elbow, which bears a tiny silvery-white ribbon of scar tissue. “You pushed me into the river thinking it was deeper than it was. And I cut my arm all up.’

“And I tore up my shirt to make you a bandage cause you wouldn’t stop hollering about it.”

“Yeah...that was a good summer.” Link smiles at the memory and it takes Rhett’s breath away for moment.

Rhett pauses the flow of the conversation, knowing he could let it continue on its journey of reminiscing. As much as he’d like to relive long neglected memories, a question nags at him and it pushes him down a different path.

“You ever wanna redo? Like, just go back to that time, what were we? 13? And do everything different? Make completely different choices?”

Link cocks his head and examines Rhett’s face. “Is this what’s happening? Are you having a mid-life crisis?”

Rhett chuckles at the disdain in Link’s voice. “No, no. I...I’m just saying, as a hypothetical. You ever wonder?”

“Of course, Rhett. What human being hasn’t had those kind of thoughts? We all live with little regrets and wonder what would have happened if we had made slightly different choices, but I try not to think about it too much. I certainly don’t worry about it. What’s the point? We are where we are, our choices have been made. Right?”

“Right...just...sometimes…” Rhett speaks softly, nearly muttering the next words under his breath, “sometimes it’s all I can think about.”

Link lets the conversation die there, guiding them back to work topics so they can leave at a reasonable hour. Rhett drops him off at home and watches as he disappears into his house. He sits in his car, pretending to scroll through his phone. He lets the tears flow for a moment and feels silly for it. Pulling out of the driveway he realizes that he’s desperately in need of a distraction.

* * *

 

He’d like to travel again, go somewhere new to take his mind off of everything. But this thing, this ability he’s been given, is unpredictable and changeable. He wishes he knew more about how it worked. He wants to tap into it, be able to control it. But he’s not sure where to start.

He’s done some research into multiverse theory, but most of what he’s found is theoretical, not practical. And the rest is internet speculation masquerading as truth. He takes what he reads with a grain of salt, as most of the sources claiming to have proof of any kind seem unreliable. Since his own experience is the most credible, he retraces the steps that have brought him here. Intent on gathering evidence, and distracting himself from his personal predicament, he reviews the facts.

What he knows about ‘traveling’, it turns out, is very little. He knows that it happens while he’s asleep. The first time had been during an intense mediation session, so he guesses that it has something to do with deep relaxation. Maybe in that receptive state his mind, or consciousness, or whatever you want to call it, was allowed to expand and pass through the barriers between the worlds.

Feeling like he’s got a solid lead, he immerses himself in meditative practices. He downloads every guided meditation app he can find and tests each methodically. He carves out time from their busy schedule to slip away and lock himself alone in various rooms. He lights candles and invents routines and rituals designed to help him ease away from this reality.

Of course, he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s following an instinct, hoping it will lead to some clarity. He hopes that by jumping in with both feet he can start to pick away at why this is all happening to him. He’s in the dark about so many things. All he wants is to regain a little control so he can keep his thoughts calm.

A few times during his meditations he swears he feels himself drift. In those moments it’s as if the world goes dark. His body vibrates with energy and he’s in tune with every passing sensation. He feels the ground sturdy underneath him and then he’s sinking and floating, the somehow contradictory experiences converging and overwhelming him. The air in the room seems to pressurize, heating and expanding, squeezing the breath from him. But then it’s over. And he’s left panting on the cool tile floor of the bathroom, or whatever room he’s claimed as his meditation spot for the day. After nearly a month of multiple daily meditations, frustration sets in.

He considers stopping, but the feeling that he’s close to something lingers with him. It nags him into continuing the practice and seeking ways to intensify the experience. During one session he’s interrupted by the sound of feet in the hallway and decides that what he really needs is more whole-body immersion. He buys noise cancelling headphones and a thick, heavy blindfold. He covers his body with layers of blankets, creating a makeshift cocoon.

Jessie finds his box of supplies in the trunk of the car one day, and presses him for details. He knows she’s not really confronting him about his meditation; that she feels the distance between them lately and wants answers. But he has none, not yet, anyway.

“I don’t know what other information you want from me.” Rhett’s immediately on the defensive, not knowing how to explain what he’s doing in a logical way.

“I just want to know if you’re ok. You say you’re _meditating_ , but I guess my question is why? People meditate for reflection, sure, I get that. But this seems like…something else. Is there something on your mind you want to talk about?”

As he guessed, she sees right through him. He marvels at her ability to pierce him right through the heart with one furrowed brow. He wants to reassure her that everything’s fine, that it’s just his way of dealing with all the stress of the last few months of work. But he doesn’t want to lie to her any more than he has to.

“I...yes. The short answer is yes. There’s something on my mind. But I don’t think I’m ready….I mean, I don’t know how to talk about it yet.”

“Ok…” her eyes search his for any hint of meaning that might be hiding behind them, “You let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be here.” She presses a hand into the meat of his chest, tapping a beat in time with his heart. He covers her hand with his and they share a moment, pausing and breathing in the early morning air.

Her eyes trace the lines of his face, a thought clouding her expression.

“Have you talked to Link about it—whatever _it_ is?”

“NO.”

Jessie raises her eyebrows at the forcefulness of his answer. He backpedals, again claiming that he’s just not ready to discuss it, with anyone.

She accepts all his excuses and kisses him softly, proving once again that she possesses more strength and patience than he’ll ever know.

* * *

 

He continues his daily meditations, putting aside all thoughts of how to discuss this with either Jessie or Link. He knows he needs to face them both eventually, but feels like he needs some answers first. He focuses on opening his mind, intent on pulling back the barriers between worlds.

As he sinks down into his familiar, introspective state, he notices that can almost see them now. The walls keeping the universes apart appear to him as thin membranes radiating out in all possible directions. In his mind’s eye, he imagines tugging on one of them, pulling himself along its path.

He sees himself being led out of his own body as he’s dragged down one of these supple tributaries. In that moment his mind drifts to the vastness of the universe, its expansiveness and how little of it we really know. Following the path he’s chosen, he’s overwhelmed by a crushing pressure, as if each atom of oxygen around him has suddenly exploded. Unable to breathe, his lungs compress under an invisible grip. His entire being is on fire, vibrating, pulsing, expanding.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, he’s free.

As if manifested by his thoughts, he finds himself floating through space. He sees the Earth from above, it’s swirling chaos hidden from this vantage point. All around him stars glitter, reflecting their million year old light brilliantly. The nothingness of space is devastating, but he feels liberated. Though surely there’s no oxygen here, he breathes deep, recognizing the contradictions of the experience.

His rational mind engages, pondering the impossibility of what’s happening. Nevermind how he may have gotten here, there’s no way that his physical body could float through space unharmed. And if he thinks about it hard enough he’s able to see that his body is still in the room he left it in, frozen in time, waiting for his return, should he choose to go back.

He hears the sound of laughter ringing around him. It takes him a moment to realize that it’s him who’s laughing, or, truthfully, giggling like a child. Tears well up in his eyes and then float away as soon as he blinks them out.

He’s overcome with the realization that this is it. The place he’s been trying to get to. He’s not floating in space, he’s between worlds. He’s in the liminal space that exists between the choices and actions that define each reality. He knows that from here he can go anywhere he wants.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shoutout to afangirlsplaylist and heatgeneratingtechniques for their amazing beta reading of this chapter and reassurances that it’s not as much of a mess as it seems in my head. I’m always on mobile, so I can’t link to their profiles, but everyone should go check out their fics, they’re both wonderfully talented writers! 
> 
> I’m sorry I’m so slow in updating, this chapter threw me through a loop. I’m hoping what comes next will flow a bit faster, but I make no promises ;)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr under the same name, if you’re into that.


	5. Singularity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics are simple, telling the tale of a friendship that knows no end or beginning. It’s a song about loyalty and brotherhood. As they sing, the room seems to go dark, the audience falling away.

The bar they’re in smells like crap. The floor is sticky and covered in what Rhett can only guess to be peanut shells. He didn’t realize that was a thing that happened anymore, but they seem to have found the last true dive bar in the continental United States. The condition of the bar is unimportant to its patrons, however, who have packed the place from wall to windows. Rhett watches as more and more stream in, weaving their way through the crowd to find their friends or make their way to the bar.

His eyes fall on one twenty-something kid who has been trying in vain for at least fifteen minutes to get the attention of the bartender. The poor thing is practically climbing up onto the bar, waving his cash around wildly, clearly having lost patience. The bartender, a pretty blonde with bright red lipstick, continues to ignore him as she pours beer after beer from the tap. Rhett smiles to himself, proud that so many people have come out just to see them.

The few small lights pointed at the stage are warm on his face as he finishes getting everything set up. He strums a few quick chords on his guitar, nodding to the sound guy across the room. Satisfied with how everything sounds, he sets his guitar back on the stand and ducks out the stage door that leads to the little green room.

He laughs out loud when he discovers Link passed out on the tiny couch at the back of the room, mouth hanging open. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of Link’s unusually quiet face before waking him with a gentle thwack to the arm.

Link startles awake, stammering out a loud, “What?!” before realizing where he is and what’s happening.

“Hey, man. I’m ready when you are. Have a nice nap?”

From Link’s vantage point, Rhett towers over him, head blotting out the overhead lamp, causing him to be surrounded by a ring of soft white light.

“Oh, sorry. I..uh...I don’t know what happened. You did the sound check?”

“Yup. We’re good to go. It’s just about 8. We should probably get out there.”

Link pulls himself up, resting his elbows on his knees, and kneads the heels of his hands into his eyes. He stands and heads over to the door, opening it slightly to get a peek at the crowd.

“This has to be the worst one yet.” Link’s voice is quiet, but gravelly. Rhett can tell he’s tired and he doesn’t blame him. This is their fifth show in as many days, with their only time off during the day spent driving from city to city. Rhett’s alive with energy, though, having only been here for seven days. He’s sad that he’ll have to leave so soon and wants to go out on a high note, give this show everything he’s got. But he needs Link to be able to match his energy. They only work if they’re a team.

“Cmon, man, I like it. It’s charming.” Rhett hopes Link will take the bait, wants to help him shift his attitude. He can hear the thrum of the crowd through the door, feels their energy pulse through him.

“It smells like piss.”

“I think that’s just stale beer. It’s really not that bad.” Rhett turns and scans the room, searching for his backpack. He finds it tucked next to the sofa and rummages through it, pulling out a small silver flask. He twists off the top and watches as Link paces about, clearly trying to shake off whatever it is he’s feeling. Rhett takes a small sip from the flask, the whiskey warming him down to his belly. He hands it off to Link, who grabs at it and chokes down a big swig.

Sputtering a bit, Link coughs around his words which stream out of him at a furious rate. It’s clear he’s been mulling over these thoughts for a while, finally finding the courage to put them into words, “What are we doing out here? Dive bars? Driving all night in that stupid van? I mean I’m almost 40, you are 40. Are we crazy? You ever think about what we left behind?”

Rhett blinks down at him, grabs him by the shoulders, tries to ground him in the moment.

“No.”

Link stares back at him, questions in his eyes. Rhett wants nothing more than to lean in, press him against the door and kiss him deep and hard, but he knows better by now. That’s not their relationship here and he knows not to disturb the delicate balance of the places he travels. If kissing was already their thing, he would certainly go along with it, but it’s not his role to bring about that kind of change. He tries to think of himself as a visitor to a strange and wild land who needs to be careful not to disturb the ecosystem. He wants to leave things as he found them.

“No? Really? You never think things would be better if we had just stayed, kept our jobs? Got married? Had some kids? It feels like we’ve been at this forever and we’re still here, working out of crappy bars, hawking merch out of the side of the van. Don’t you ever want a break?”

“You’re tired. I get it. I’m tired too. But, think about how far we’ve come in just a few years,” Rhett has discovered the handiness of the internet in multiverse travel. Immediately upon his arrival here, a quick Google search told him about their journey into cult Alt-Country status, and their small, but loyal fan base. He tore through all three of their albums, tears in his eyes as he listened to their beautiful harmonies sung across sweepingly melancholy love songs.

“All those people came out to see us. You know, the manager told me that there’s usually like 10 people in here on Sunday nights. And you saw it out there, it’s packed,” Rhett jostles Link’s shoulders, peering down until Link is looking him in the eye. “We’ll get there, man. I promise. Just have a little faith.”

A reluctant smile spreads across Link’s face and he takes another deep pull from the flask.

“Faith, huh? I can try that, I guess. But, only if you promise that we can sleep in a hotel tonight. I can’t do another night in that van.”

“You got it. I don’t think we have too far to drive tomorrow anyway.”

After another bout of pacing and a final swig of whiskey, Link finally seems calmed. They make their way out the stage door and up the steps to the stage. The lights were left on, so their entrance to the stage is rather unceremonious, but is met with raucous cheers and applause from the teeming crowd.

They plug in, and take their places at their mics. Rhett thinks back to the first night after he arrived here. They played a show at a small club on the outskirts of Nashville. He was terrified. Namely because though he had tried to listen to their songs as much as possible on the drive in, feigning sleep with his earbuds in, he knew there was no way he had actually learned how to play any of them. These were not the comedy songs he and Link have performed in his own timeline, the ones he knows so well. These were new and unfamiliar and he was sure that he’d get up on the stage and be forced to fake an illness or set off the fire alarm in order to get out of the gig.

But in the moment, something took over. The words and chords flowed from him as naturally as if he were actually the Rhett who had written them. Again, the universe provided for him in his time of need, guiding him, showing him the way.

Tonight is no different. He closes his eyes and leans into the music, the sound of Link’s soft harmonica washing over him, carrying the melody of a wordless chorus. Their voices melt together. Rhett’s deep, grumbly baritone is steady and even, allowing Link’s harmonies to swell and expand, reaching out over the crowd. They sing songs of heartbreak and betrayal, joy, and loneliness. Songs that remind them of home, of their reckless youth. They cover a favorite Merle Haggard song, glancing at each other, sharing a quiet moment of eye contact as they sing the line, “So I just dream and keep on being the way I am.”

Their final song is a crowd favorite and the first few bars elicit roars from around the room. But it’s a quiet song, so the audience hushes, suspended in anticipation. The lyrics are simple, telling the tale of a friendship that knows no end or beginning. It’s a song about loyalty and brotherhood. As they sing, the room seems to go dark, the audience falling away. Suddenly it’s just them, singing their hearts out to each other like they did when they were teenagers, locked away in one of their rooms, practicing until the wee hours of the morning, Rhett’s fingers bleeding, Link’s voice hoarse.

“...you’re my friend…till...the end.”

Rhett strums out the final chord and everything rushes back into focus. The room is full with the sound of cheers and they take a moment to say thank you and goodnight. Afterwards, they have drinks at the bar and meet a few fans before hauling out their gear and loading it into the van.

They look up nearby hotels and find one that’s not too expensive. It’s quiet as they get settled into the room, which is often the case after shows. Coming down from the high of the performance makes both of them crave silence and introspection. It’s not until they’re both laying in their beds, Link scrolling through his phone, that Rhett remembers that he has to leave. It’s day seven and even though he’s in charge now, he knows he has to stick to the rules.

He watches as Link sets his phone aside and switches off his bedside light. Rhett sees Link close his eyes and hears his breath start to slow. It’s so quiet that Rhett is startled when Link speaks, his voice tinged with a sleepy slur, “You were right, ya know. I don’t know what I was thinking. That might’ve been our best gig ever. Sorry I’m such a nervous mess sometimes.”

Rhett huffs out a little laugh, “No problem, buddy, that’s what I’m here for.” But Link doesn’t hear the end of his sentence, having slipped off to sleep while Rhett was speaking.

Rhett sits up, replaying the last week in his mind, committing it to memory since he’s unable to take any other kind of souvenirs. He crosses the room and gives Link a brief kiss on the forehead, letting his lips linger for the shortest of moments. Feeling like he’s said goodbye as best he can, he lays down in his bed, closes his eyes and lets his mind open. The air rushes from his lungs, there’s a bend and refraction of light, and before he knows it he’s home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by R&L’s backstage shenanigans on the Tour of Mythicality. It’s just a little interlude between chapters. I swear there’s an actual chapter on the way, very soon :)


	6. Continuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Closing his eyes, he thinks about where he needs to go, the things he needs to do, the words he needs to say. The universe twists him, rips him away, pulls him apart into a million tiny pieces and then throws him back together again.

   
Home. The word is fraught with meaning for Rhett these days.

 _What’s the saying_ , he wonders during one of his many recent daydreams, _it’s where the heart is_? That only leads him to more questions. Where does his heart belong? And to whom?

He constantly questions why he’s been given this gift. Is it really a gift? Or is it a curse? He’s allowed to see all the possibilities for his life that he could ever imagine, but none of them are really his. He wanders in and out of these versions of his life, these versions of himself, but can never settle. He is the Flying Dutchman of myth, doomed to drift from port to port, forever at sea.

Of course, he could stop. He’s in control now, he tells himself, the universe is no longer flinging him from place to place unwillingly. But, he’s seen what’s out there and can’t go back. He can’t give it all up to lead his, now, seemingly, mundane life. Can he?

When he is home, he does little more than go through the motions. He sits behind the desk, makes jokes, laughs at all the right times. He is ever the devoted father and husband, home for dinner every night by seven. He attends all the kids’ games, makes time for him and Jessie to be alone. He does his best to push all thoughts of Link from his mind that don’t relate to their business and partnership.

But he allows himself to travel more and more often. He slips away, stopping his life in its tracks to indulge his fantasies. He’s careful, though, and has tried to construct rules for himself to avoid falling in too deep in any of the places he visits. The first and most steadfast rule is that he stick to the one week stay, and the second is that he spaces out the trips so he doesn’t spend too much time away from his own reality. He sees the danger that lingers in that possibility, especially given some of the things he’s experienced lately.

He’s convinced himself that no one has noticed the change in him. He ignores the way Jessie stares at him from across the dinner table, eyes clouded with worry. He brushes off the increasingly consistent furrow of Link’s brow as a flare up of the man’s overactive anxiety. If he doesn’t confront it, doesn’t bring it up, they’ll never know. Right?

These thoughts race through his mind as he lies awake in bed. It hasn’t even been a week since his last trip, but he longs for escape. During filming that day he’d nearly fallen away as they attempted to make themselves hallucinate through deep breathing. It would have been so easy to just let go, but he pulled himself out of it, returning to his body and focusing on playing up the scene for laughs.

Coming down from his oxygen high, he found his gaze wandering to Link’s body. Clothed all in white, the fabric stretching at the shoulders, he was so beautiful, giddy and ridiculous from the content of the episode. In the dressing room later it took everything in him to not spill all his secrets right there and then. He admits that as much as he’s excited and rejuvenated by the journey he’s on, it’s often lonely. He longs for his best friend, wants to pull him in on the adventure, take him along for the ride.

But he’s afraid. He’s afraid that Link won’t understand, or worse, he won’t forgive Rhett for some of the things he’s done. Rhett’s guilty mind churns over the words he longs to say, but everytime he tries to speak them aloud they turn to dust in his mouth. So he continues on alone. Laying in bed with Jessie who softly snores next to him, Rhett turns his mind’s eye inward. He needs escape, needs to find someplace peaceful. Relaxing into it, he gets a clear picture in his head, manifests it, makes it real. And then he’s gone.

* * *

 

He blinks his eyes open. A slow smile spreads across his face as he takes in the room around him. In a dark corner of his mind he sees the other version of himself sleeping right where he left him, safe and warm in his own bed. He is a body of water, split by some unknowable force, allowing him to flow between the two places at once. In this quiet liminal moment, both places feel like memories, warm and glowing, backlit by the fondness he feels for each. He could stay here forever, he thinks, suspended between realities, comforted by the stillness of time and space.  
  
Reluctantly coming into full consciousness, he lets his senses tell him the story of where he is. He chases experiences and often seeks out places that fulfill certain passions, or what he so fondly refers to as _layers_. As such, he usually has a fairly clear idea of where he is, but he likes pretending it’s unknown. He’s an explorer, after all, and the fun lies in the unexpected.

He feels the gentle undulation of the sea beneath him, smells the salt air, hears water lapping at the sides of the boat. Stretching his long limbs he pulls himself out of bed. He can barely stand up straight in the stateroom he’s in, though he notes that despite its small size, it feels spacious. Teak beams extend up the curved walls, giving the sense that they are expanding outward. He wanders over to the wall where there are built in shelves lined with leather bound books, capped at each end by carved wooden bookends. He lets his fingers dance along the books, occasionally pulling out a title that seems interesting and flipping through the pages. Each opened book releases small puffs of dust that swirl in the beams of light that the early morning sun sends through the windows.

Placing the books back in order, he pulls open the narrow door which leads to the galley of the boat. To his right is a nook with a table, surrounded on three sides by bench seating. To his left is the small kitchen, where he sees a gas stove and a small built in, top loading fridge. He smells the coffee before he sees it, and heads over to the counter to pour himself a cup.

At his full height, his head grazes the ceiling. He tilts his head up and finds himself looking out a watertight window. Above him he sees the mast stretch up into the bright blue sky. The sail is furled, wrapped tight in its thick canvas bag and he can faintly hear the halyards clink against the metal mast in the gentle breeze.

After a few sips of coffee he feels ready to head outside and find the person he’s sure is waiting for him. He feels his stomach kick and churn at the thought. This part always makes him nervous. He’s never sure which version of his and Link’s relationship he’s stumbled upon, it seems to be the one of the things he can’t predict. Through his travels of late, he’s encountered nearly every variation he can think of. Mostly, he chooses where he wants to go based on the idea of an experience, but how his relationships with his loved ones have changed is usually still a surprise. The cast of characters remains the same, but they play different roles depending on the universe and the choices they’ve all made within it.

As with the first few times he traveled, he’s comforted by the familiar faces he continues to find. It’s as if nothing in the universe can keep them apart, they are as intrinsic to each other’s lives as the oxygen that they breathe. It makes it that much easier to leave the comfort of home when he knows he’ll be surrounded by the same love and friendship he has there.

Pulling up the hatch, Rhett is greeted by a warm breeze that fills his lungs and eases the fluttery feeling still lingering in his belly. Stepping up onto the deck he finds Link stretched out on a bench in the covered center console, his nose deep in a book. When he hears Rhett step out of the cabin, he looks out from around the book in his hands and gives Rhett a wide smile. Rhett pauses, trying to construe the feelings behind Link’s eyes. They sparkle with meaning, but Rhett’s still not good at distinguishing between Link’s friendship smiles and his something more smiles. Out here in the wild tangle of universes, limitless with possibility, each glance and gesture is incredibly confusing to his already bewildered heart.

“Hey, you’re up. The girls just went ashore to do some exploring. I said I’d wait for you to wake up and that we’d join them in a bit.”

Rhett steps into the console and sits on the bench opposite Link, letting his words soak in. He loves playing detective, picking up clues as he goes along, trying to work out all the little details of the universe as they unfold. The information Link’s given is enough for him to decipher that they’re here with Jessie and Christy, though the configuration of the relationships are still somewhat of a mystery. He’s done this enough times to not make any assumptions, so he decides to wait for more definitive answers on that subject.

Taking another sip of coffee, Rhett glances around and lets the scenery finally sink in. The water surrounding the boat is clearer than any he’s ever seen. The turquoise sea stretches to the horizon, reflecting the cloudless sky. They are moored not far from the shore, close enough that he wonders if the girls swam to the beach or took a dinghy. On a table in the middle of the console he sees a large, laminated map. He sits up to look at it, noticing a red line marking various stops all down the eastern seaboard of the U.S. The final stop is circled with the same red pen, and Rhett cranes his neck and squints so he can read it; St. Maarten. He nods to himself, impressed by their collective ability to sail such a long distance.

He guesses that they’ve made it to their final destination as this locale certainly seems Caribbean, and there appears to be no rush to get on to the next stop. He stands and walks the deck of the boat, ending up at the tip of the bow, clinging to the forestay for balance. The cord is taut under his fingers, but flexible enough to bend and sway under his weight and the gentle rocking of the boat. He looks out past the little cove they’re anchored in and laughs to himself. He knew this would be a fun universe to visit, but wonders how he’s ever going to muster the strength to leave this paradise and return home.

But return home he must. He repeats this like a mantra, keeping it fresh in his mind.

With the wind rustling his hair back from his face, he lets his mind wander to some of his recent trips. He’s taken to indulging some ridiculous bohemian fantasies, worlds where he and Link are musicians, singers, artists, poets.

He was particularly fond of a world where he and Link were working as painters, living in Paris. He thinks about one of the days he spent with Link, drinking strong coffee at a cafe in Montmartre, discussing something that seemed weighty and important at the time, politics perhaps, or maybe philosophy. It’s a memory he returns to often, but the specifics of the conversation are unimportant. It’s all the other little details that cling to him, pull him back in time and again. Link wore his hair long, pulled back in a low ponytail, effortlessly beautiful in the Parisian sunlight. A man on a bicycle flew past, ringing his little bell in warning for pedestrians. The air smelled of fresh cut grass, baking bread, and cigarettes. He remembers how Link stirred his coffee so patiently with his little silver spoon, as if they had all the time in the world to simply linger in this cafe on a Wednesday afternoon. Link was so relaxed and free and open in a way that Rhett had never seen before.

Rhett longs to see his own Link like that, to see him unleash the free spirit Rhett knows resides somewhere inside his heart. Their timeline has coiled him into a ball of anxiety. He lashes out with impulsive decisions, giving everyone the impression that he’s cool and fun, but Rhett knows him from the inside out. Rhett knows he’s wound tight and craves control because that’s how their life taught him to be.

A harsh tap on his shoulder wakes Rhett from his reverie. He twists his head to see a furrow-browed Link shaking his head at him.

“Hey! What’re you doin’? I’ve been calling your name. Are we gonna go ashore or what?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Got a little lost in thought, I guess.”

Link’s expression softens and he blinks up at him with curiosity in his eyes, “Oh? Whatcha thinking about, sailor?”

Rhett breathes out a laugh at the nickname, though it’s bittersweet. He wants nothing more than to share the stories of his adventures, wants to tell Link — any version of him — of all the things he’s seen, all the things they’re capable of together, but his fears are no more dissipated here than at home, so he lies and says, “Nothing...just daydreaming, I guess.”

“Must’ve been a good dream. You looked so happy.” Link reaches out and wraps one arm around Rhett’s waist, pulling himself in to nuzzle at Rhett’s shoulder.

Rhett smiles, unsure of what to make of Link’s touch. It could mean that they’re together, or that all four of them are — which is always his favorite scenario, if he’s honest — or that they’re just more affectionate here. He doesn’t push it, he waits for Link to show him what it all means.

Link makes it clear by raising up onto his toes to place a soft kiss on Rhett’s cheek before taking a deep breath and biting playfully at Rhett’s earlobe.

“C’mon. We have about 20 minutes before we really need to leave. I say we make good use of that time.” Link’s eyes are alight with playful determination and Rhett knows he’s going to do whatever it is Link wants him to. He’s discovered that he has no willpower when it comes to Link’s mischievous mind.

So he lets Link lead him into the cabin, lets him push him down onto the bed in the same room he woke up in. He gives in to Link’s touch like he’s made of sand, each press of Link’s fingers leaving deep impressions on his body and his heart.

When they finish, Link wriggles out of his grasp, kissing him quick and jumping into the shower. Rhett lingers for a moment, breathing in Link’s scent on the sheets, before rolling out of bed and dressing. He’s excited by the prospect of exploring the island and wonders what the girls have planned.

They head to shore in the little dinghy, its motor sputtering behind them. Link ferried the girls earlier, Rhett learns, and they’ve been waiting at a little beach bar, researching day hikes. As they enter the seating area and approach the table, Rhett’s hand moves to the small of Link’s back, guiding him in the right direction. This Link apparently doesn’t care for that sort of show of affection and shrugs Rhett off, turning to give him a look he can only interpret as a glare, his normally warm eyes turning cold and harsh. Rhett’s puzzled, but brushes it off, each version of Link comes with a variety of nuances. It’s not the first time Rhett’s ended up pissing one of them off for some unforeseeable offense. He takes it in stride and pulls out a chair next to Jessie, who turns and smiles her miraculous smile. She leans in as he sits and kisses him, her fingers lingering gently in his beard before she pulls away.

 _Oh_ , he thinks, _this is one of those scenarios_. The thought of them all being happy together, sailing around the Caribbean in that little sailboat makes him feel a bit giddy. He’s definitely going to have a hard time sticking to his one week rule.

He listens as Christy outlines their plans for the day, watches her hair bounce off her tanned shoulders as she speaks excitedly about the coastal trail that apparently ends in fresh-water swimming pools full of sea urchins. He likes listening to her talk, she and Link share the same kind of hyperactive energy when they’re excited about something. He’s more than enjoyed the universes where they’ve been close. He knows he should feel guilty, it’s a betrayal to the people back home in more than one way, but he’s fallen so deeply in love with the idea of the four of them as one big happy family that he’s lost the ability to stop himself from indulging.

The rest of the morning is spent gathering supplies, filling water bottles, packing extra granola bars, and changing into hiking shoes. By noon they are on their way through the forest, following a trail map they procured from the nearby resort.

They wind their way up a small slope, the trail guiding them through the dense, low lying vegetation. They’re still close to the coast so it turns out to be less jungly than Rhett had imagined it might be. Every so often they come upon a vista and stop to take in the view and snap a few pictures. The trail edges dangerously close to the cliff a few times and Rhett feels his heart jump and his knees go weak, but then, like a miracle, Jessie is there, sliding her fingers between his. She steadies his nerves like she always has, calming him with nothing more than a wink and a grin.

The sun is still hot and high in the sky when they reach the pools, which sparkle in the midday light. The ocean is visible beyond the pools and from the right vantage point it seems as if they extend right into the open sea. Rhett settles in on a large flat rock as the girls start to explore. They’re pulling off their hiking shoes and dipping their toes in the water when Link plops down on the rock next to him. He fishes through his backpack, wrestling with its contents for a moment before finding what he was looking for. Much to Rhett’s surprise, he triumphantly holds up a joint and smirks in Rhett’s direction.

Rhett can’t help the laugh that escapes him, “Really?”

“Really, brother.” Before finishing his sentence Link’s already nodding his head, ready to assuage any objections Rhett might offer.

“Where’d you even get that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Link’s eyes are again bright with mischief. Rhett wonders where his limits are; what won’t he do to see those eyes light up like that? How far can Link push him before he realizes it’s too far?

After a cursory scan of the area it appears that they’re alone and Rhett realizes that he didn’t see anyone else on the trail as they hiked up. He’s glad of it, he feels like other people would spoil the picture of this day in his head. He wants to believe this place belongs to them and them alone.

He and Link pass the joint between them, each taking long pulls, the smoke dissipating into the wind. Rhett lets his thoughts go soft and he watches as the girls pull off their hiking clothes. His eyes linger here and there, noticing the light ends of Jessie’s hair as it falls down her back and how Christy’s blue swimsuit is a near perfect match for the water in the pool. He knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it. He loves catching new details he’s missed in his own timeline, where he’s not allowed to have thoughts like this.

Once again, Rhett’s daydreaming is interrupted by Link. This time in the form of a hard whack to the shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Ow...what the hell, man?” Rhett rubs his shoulder, his skin stinging from the force of Link’s slap.

“I could say the same to you. Quit looking at my wife like that.”

Rhett searches Link’s face for signs that he’s joking, but Link’s giving nothing away. Rhett can usually tell when Link’s playing games, looking to start a friendly bout of teasing, but this doesn’t feel like that.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean…”

“Whatever...just cut it out. Don’t make things weird.”

Link stands with a roll of his eyes and tugs off his t-shirt. Before Rhett can reply, Link throws the shirt in Rhett’s face and dives into the pool. Rhett watches him through the clear water, his perspective distorted by the bend of the light. Link slips further and further away just as a cloud obscures the sun, casting the pool into dark shadow. Rhett worries for a moment, though he’s not sure what he’s afraid of. That Link forgot how to swim? Or how to come up for air when he needs to? Or that he’d push himself, showing off for his audience, accidentally staying under for too long? But then, like it’s nothing, Link pops up on the other side of the pool, shaking the water from his hair like a wet puppy.

Rhett suddenly feels like an intruder, observing from afar. Link playfully splashes at Christy, who climbs down to join him in the water. They entwine for a moment, kicking to stay afloat, Link kissing her deep and soft. For the briefest of seconds he and Link meet eyes. There’s a dark flash across Link’s brow, but Rhett doesn’t know how to read it.

Rhett shakes off his uneasy feeling, attributing it to his cloudy mind, and rises to join the others in the water. They all splash about for a while, chatting and floating, soaking up the afternoon sun. Rhett’s the only one who can touch the bottom in the middle of the pool, so Jessie wraps her arms around his neck for support and he spins her around, making lazy circles with her legs. They are giggling about something unimportant, Jessie’s mouth grazing Rhett’s ear, when Link attacks.

In one swift move Rhett’s pulled under, Link’s arms around his waist, and Jessie has to work to disentangle herself from their mess of limbs. She pulls herself up on the rocks to watch them wrestle under the water. Link uses all his wily strength to Rhett’s disadvantage, confusing him by coiling around him, pinning Rhett’s arms to his sides. Rhett’s unable to break free, so he hurls them around, hoping to be able to dislodge Link’s limbs from their tight grip.

As they come up for air, flopping and grunting with the force of their movements, Rhett feels Link slide behind him, limbs unyielding in their hold on him. At first Rhett thinks he’s imagining it, but then it’s unmistakable; Link’s grinding into him, hands on his hips, fingers gripping tight near the waistband of Rhett’s suit. He’s laughing an innocent laugh, twisting them about in faux wrestling moves, but it’s there, the sway of his hips explicitly rolling against Rhett’s ass.

Rhett’s not sure if this is a game they play, showing off for their wives, or if Link’s playing at something else. Something different, darker, a game Rhett would never agree to if he knew the rules. And just as it feels like Link’s about to let him in on the joke, he backs off, splashing him in the face, laughing his maniacal laugh. Again, Rhett notices a dark flash across Link’s face, something hidden behind his bright smile. He can’t place the source of it, but it leaves Rhett feeling disquieted. He sets the feeling aside, reassuring himself that it’s just a quirk of Link’s personality in this universe. The girls slide back into the water and they all continue swimming lazily and exploring the pools, marveling at a little cluster of sea urchins they find, careful not to disturb them in their delicate habitat.

Eventually some other tourists arrive so they take that as their cue to pack up and start the trek back to town. The afternoon is spent meandering around the small town square, wandering in and out of shops, discussing their plans for the next few weeks.

They watch the sunset over the horizon from a quiet spot on the beach, the sound of the waves taking the place of conversation. Jessie snuggles in tight at his side, wrapping herself around him. As the sky darkens and the sun flings the last of its golden light across the sand, Rhett feels like he’s finally found the moment of peace he’s been searching for. He breathes it in, letting the ocean air cleanse him from the inside out.

The tranquility is soon broken, though, as a chill wind blows in over the water. They’ve not brought much in the way of warm clothing, so they make quick work of gathering their things and readying themselves to return to the boat.

The evening on their little sailboat is full of warm chatter over a bottle of wine. After a while though, they each begin to feel the effects of their busy day. As Rhett stretches his way through yet another yawn, Jessie takes it upon herself to pull him up and lead him back belowdecks. She guides him into the big bed of the stateroom, practically tucking him in before she climbs in herself. Link and Christy follow suit shortly after, quietly ducking into the smaller cabin just off the galley. They all fall asleep in minutes, rocked gently by the swell of the ocean beneath them.

* * *

 

The wind is at their backs and the sun is high and bright in the sky. Since the morning brought back the humid heat, they decided to spend the day on the boat, sailing around the island. Link mans the helm, sharp in white shorts and a bright blue shirt. Rhett and the girls pitch in where needed throughout the sail, rising occasionally to pull in or let out the sheets. But mostly they lounge around the boat as Link keeps them moving at a leisurely pace.

They drop anchor around the back side of the island, just off shore of a white sand beach, flanked on either side by looming white cliffs. The people on the beach seem so far away, little dots peppering the shoreline. In reality they could probably swim to shore, but the calm ocean and lack of other nearby boats makes it feel like they’re miles away.

The eat lunch in their swimsuits, opening a bottle of champagne, taking turns jumping off the boat into the crystal clear waters. It’s a lazy afternoon, but full of contentment and easy smiles.

At some point, Rhett and Link wander below deck to fish out more snacks while the girls sunbathe on the bow of the boat. Link is attempting, but mostly failing, to cut up some fruit and salami, his shaky hands causing the knife to slip numerous times. The end result is a platter of wildly uneven slices of meat and nearly mangled pieces of strawberries.

Rhett wonders how it is that Link can be so unabashedly confident at the helm of the boat, but fail so miserably at this basic task. As he attempts to tidy up the tray of food and compensate for Link’s sloppy handiwork, he’s struck by an idea. He rolls it over in his mind a moment before deciding that it’s too good not to share.

“Hey, Link?” He waits until Link tilts his head to meet his eyes, “I just had a crazy idea. Well, maybe it’s not so crazy, but it sounds crazy in my head. Or...I guess it’s not crazy for us, but it might be for some people…”

Link laughs at Rhett’s rambling and bumps his hips into Rhett’s, nudging him to get it out, “Lay it on me, brother. What’s the idea?”

Rhett turns to face him, leaning in a little closer, whispering, “We should sail around the world.”

“Huh,” Link's face scrunches in thought, his eyebrows furrowing and raising in time with the pace of his thoughts, “I mean, it’s not so crazy. But…”

“So, let’s do it.”

“You’re serious about this?”

Rhett nods, knowing this might be outside the realm of decisions he should be making on his doppelgänger’s behalf, but he’s caught up in the moment, so he decides to roll with it.

“Huh...I mean... _huh_. It’s definitely an idea. I guess...we made it here, right?”

“Exactly. What’s stopping us?”

“Well, for one thing, I think we’re gonna need a bigger boat.”

Rhett laughs loudly, nearly doubling over when he realizes that Link doesn’t seem to get the joke.

“What?”

“You gotta be kidding me. I take it you still haven’t seen Jaws...you honestly just said that sentence aloud, unironically? You’re unbelievable,” Rhett shakes his head, sighing and laughing in awe.

“Why? Is that a line from the movie?”

Rhett’s booming belly laugh floods the cabin as he chokes out a, “Yeah. It is.” He pauses, watching confusion turn to glee on Link’s face as he relishes in making his friend laugh so wholeheartedly.

“I love you.”

The words slip out of Rhett’s mouth before he even feels them form on his tongue. He feels their impact immediately. The air in the room changes, Link’s eyes turning dark.

Rhett’s not sure if he’s crossed a line, or said something that had previously only been unspoken, but he can’t hold it in any longer. He’s overflowing and the thought of never getting to say those words to his Link is too much to consider. So it spills out of him here, compensating for the words that are so noticeably absent at home.

Link’s response is unexpected, though. He rolls his eyes, making a show of it, and laughs under his breath. “Really?” He scans the length of Rhett, taking him in, expression dark and tinged with something Rhett can’t put his finger on. “Here? Now?” Link’s voice is hoarse in mock whisper. He glances around before tiptoeing over to glance out the hatch door. Seemingly satisfied, he quietly pulls the door shut and slips the lock into place. He spins and settles his gaze on Rhett.

Rhett’s heart is beating wildly, but he can’t quite place why. In the moment it took to close the door, it feels like all the air is gone from the room, siphoned out by the look in Link’s eye.

From across the room, Link speaks in a controlled monotone, “Is this what you want? Them, right up above us? Oblivious?”

Rhett doesn’t remember Link moving, but suddenly he’s right there, grabbing at Rhett’s clothes, mouth greedy on his skin.

Link’s hands are impolite, roughly tugging at the button to Rhett’s pants. He pushes Rhett against the wall with more force than Rhett knew he had in him. He slips to his knees, pulling down Rhett’s shorts, palming at him through his underwear.

“You like it like this, baby?” Again, Link’s eyes are telling a story Rhett can’t seem to read. “We’re gonna have to be quiet. Or does that do it for you? Knowing they could walk in at any—“

Rhett doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence. There’s ringing in his ear as the room seems to shift in and out of focus as finally, slowly, realization dawns on him.

_They don’t know._

His heart sinks and his mouth goes dry. He feels as if the wind has been knocked from his lungs, like he fell from a great height and landed smack on his back. Link’s fingers on his skin turn to sandpaper, burning, scratching him raw. With heavy hands Rhett musters up the resolve to bat them away.

Rhett blinks, his expression blank. Somehow this scenario never occurred to him. Despite all the things he himself has done, he never thought that the two of them would ever be so cruel as this. The thought of Jessie and Christy right up above, blissfully enjoying the day, totally unaware of their husbands’ betrayal below, crushes him.

He pushes Link off him and pulls up his pants, breath ragged and vision cloudy. Link backs away, a brutal look on his face.

“What?” He rolls his eyes and lets out an abrasive sigh, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry again?” Rhett gawks at him as he spills out what sounds like a rehearsed speech, “You started this, don’t forget. You can’t blame me when things get too real for you.”

Rhett can’t seem to speak, eyes burning as Link continues to spit carefully venomous words in Rhett’s direction.

“This is how things are, Rhett. These are the choices we made. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to live with. Two seconds ago, you were professing your love for me. You remember? You can’t have it both ways. You can’t keep coming to me for this, declaring your love, fucking me in secret, and then lord your guilt over me as if it makes you better than me somehow. I won’t allow it.”

Rhett’s seen a lot of versions of himself and of Link, but at this moment he’s certain that he likes these two the least.

Reeling, he backs away and nearly falls backwards up the little set of stairs. He pushes his way out of the cabin, needing the fresh air, but finds no relief. Instead, he hears Jessie call to him from the front of the boat, teasing him about how long it’s taken them to get a cheese plate together.

He freezes. He doesn’t know how to do this. This is a vicious dance, one he doesn’t know the steps to. But then Link is there, sure footed, eyes steely on Rhett before he turns and warmly addresses Christy and Jessie.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies! But you know how it is, we had to stop a few times to bandage me up. I don’t know who decided that I should be in charge of procuring snacks.”

Rhett stumbles away from them. At the stern of the boat, he lays his hands on the rail, letting the warm sun wash over him. He should turn and face what he knows he deserves. He realizes he’s not innocent here. The Rhett who lives here and the Rhett who is visiting are both complicit. He has lied to and cheated on the people he loves just as this Rhett has. He doesn’t blame them, not really. Truthfully, his heart breaks for them. Whatever terrible choices they’ve made he’s certain have been made out of fear. Rhett recognizes that kind of decision-making process. He can imagine all too clearly how it must’ve started and how hard it must be to end it.

But he can’t be here. He’s not ready.

So he runs.

Closing his eyes, he thinks about where he needs to go, the things he needs to do, the words he needs to say. The universe twists him, rips him away, pulls him apart into a million tiny pieces and then throws him back together again.

* * *

 

He retreats to his safe place. A place he’s returned to time and again, the only place he’s ever returned to, really. It’s selfish to come here, but he does it anyway. He can’t go home, not yet. He needs to sort out what he just saw, what it all means. In his heart, he knows what he needs to do. But he’s not ready to let go. He needs time to say goodbye.

He opens his eyes and scans the darkened room around him. He knows the shape of it as well as he does his own at this point. He loves the feel of the sheets around his body, loves the even-tempered sound of the breath of the man sleeping next to him.

With his heart still racing, he replays the last few days in his mind. The thing he can’t shake, can’t get out of his head, is the cold look in Link’s eyes, his bitter words. It would be so easy to lie to himself, pretend that he could never be like that or make those choices. But he knows that’s not true. He knows who they are and who he is.

Turning onto his side, he brushes the hair back from Link’s face as he sleeps. Leaning in close, he presses his lips to his forehead, lingering, breathing him in deep. Rhett has so much he wants to say, but the words aren’t meant for this world. He whispers them into Link’s skin, hoping he can sort out his thoughts by giving them voice. It’s a ridiculous exercise, but it’s all he can do.

“Hey, Link…” He waits, scanning Link’s face for any sign that he might be waking. “If you were awake right now this wouldn’t make any sense. But I need to say some things to you. Well, not to _you_ , but…” he sighs and collects himself, “I’m sorry, you know? I never meant...I was just trying to follow the path that was given to me. I don’t know why it took all this. Just to show me…” Rhett’s voice breaks, and his next words are barely breathed out, “Are we that stupid, Link? Would we have never realized it on our own? Did I really need to...to travel across space and time just to realize that I loved you? And why show me now? When I can’t do anything about it? We’re trapped. You and I...I can’t. _We_ can’t.”

Rhett pauses when he feels Link stir in his arms, roused by Rhett’s voice. With a groan, Link squints open his eyes, peering up at Rhett with questioning eyes, sorting him out in the dark.

“Hey, baby…” Link’s voice is tinged with a sleepy drawl, deep and gravelly, “Whatcha doin’ awake? What time is it?” Link twists in Rhett’s embrace and cranes his neck to get a look at the clock, but Rhett cuts off his movement, cupping his jaw to force eye contact.

Link must be able to see something there, Rhett’s sure it’s written all over his face.

“You have a bad dream?”

“Something like that.”

“Mmm...poor baby. Let me make it better…”

Link kisses him soft and wet, wrapping his arms tight around his neck. With sure hands he pushes Rhett’s shoulders back, pressing him into the mattress. He slides one leg across Rhett’s body and slips on top of him, never breaking the kiss. Rhett grinds up into him, aware that he should stop things, he should leave, this place doesn’t belong to him. But he’s desperate, needs to feel, to touch, to taste everything one last time. In his head, he justifies it as closure, in his heart, he feels like a coward.

Rhett winds their hands together, pulling back to look Link in the eye. They smile at each other in the dark, Rhett memorizing the shape of Link’s eyes when he looks at him like that, how they crinkle slightly at the corners, betraying his age. In this, the stillest of moments, Rhett sends a silent wish up into the ether; for _his_ Link to be here with him. Rhett wishes for the chance to show him what he’s seen, open his eyes, make him realize.

But the moment passes, and Rhett sits up quick, capturing Link’s mouth with his. He digs his fingers into Link’s skin, tugging at his t-shirt. Rhett feels a hot tear on his cheek as he works his mouth on Link’s neck, tasting the salty sweetness he finds there.

But then something shifts. The air turns cold and dry. Link’s body goes stiff in his arms. Link recoils backwards like he’s touched a hand to an open flame, shocking Rhett with the force of his movement. He scrambles backwards down the bed, a wild look in his eye.

He shouts, unintelligible sounds, his breath shallow, frantic. Rhett starts to move towards him, reaches out to bring him back to him, but Link retreats, tripping over his own feet, nearly toppling the dresser in his frenzy to get away. As he steadies himself, he peers across the room, eyes wide and searching.

“ _Rhett_?”

Rhett’s frozen, hands mid air, heart beating wildly. “ _Link_?”

“What... _where_...what’re you…” Link can’t seem to find the words he needs, instead spinning around on the spot, scanning his surroundings. As he meets Rhett’s eyeline again, his knees start to buckle, and Rhett worries that he’s going to faint. So he swoops in quick, slipping his arm under Link’s, steadying him with a hand at his waist.

Link blinks up at Rhett, and they stare at each other in blind confusion, neither sure what, exactly, is happening.

“Rhett...what the hell…where are we? How—“

And then Rhett sees it, the look in his eye, and he knows what has happened.

He sees _his_ Link, eyes bright and bewildered, dazed from the shock of traveling through universes, staring back at him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about St. Maarten, I just picked a spot on the map. Don’t hold me to anything I’ve said about the place. 
> 
> Enormous thanks to heatgeneratingtechniques and afangirlsplaylist for their skilled Beta-ing and encouragement :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	7. Displacement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He thought he was sleeping, but now he's awake, sweat dripping from his skin and seeping through his t-shirt.
> 
> Link's eyes fly open and he feels his breath heavy in his chest. He senses someone's arms around him, gripping him tight, touching him softly. But it all feels so unfamiliar.

Everything's dark, black, as if every light in the world has suddenly been extinguished. He's left with an aching in his joints, feels it deep in his bones. He thought he was sleeping, but now he's awake, sweat dripping from his skin and seeping through his t-shirt.

Link's eyes fly open and he feels his breath heavy in his chest. He senses someone's arms around him, gripping him tight, touching him softly. But it all feels so unfamiliar.

He’s hit with the urge to scream, but it's as if there's no air in his lungs. He’s not sure he remembers how to move his limbs. It takes everything in him to push away, to fight out of the embrace. In his scramble to flee, he nearly stumbles over, crashing into the objects around him.

Slowly, finally, things start to shift into focus. He’s in a bedroom, that much becomes clear, but it’s most certainly not his bedroom. It's dark, _must be nighttime_ , he concludes, rational thought starting to creep back into his rattled brain. Blinking, his eyes strain to cut through the shadow of the room.

He makes out a figure, someone sitting on the edge of a bed. He guesses this is the same person whose arms he just leapt out of. His eyes finally adjust and the figure comes into full focus.

" _Rhett_?"

" _Link_?”

"What... _where_...what're you..." Link searches for the words to express the confusion he feels, but his head is swimming, thoughts racing faster than he can keep up. He spins in place, hoping to gain clarity from his surroundings. Did he hit his head? Whose room, whose house is this? Why can't he remember how he got here?

And then everything starts to go fuzzy. The last thing he feels is Rhett's strong arms around him, storm green eyes searching his own. Then, as if nothing had happened, he’s back in his own bed, in his own room.

He sits up with a start, looks over at Christy sleeping soundly next to him. His shirt is drenched with sweat and he flings back the thick comforter, needing the cool air on his skin. Stumbling out of bed, he makes his way to the bathroom, clumsy hands struggling to find the light switch. In the mirror, his eyes search his reflection for clues about what he just experienced.

All he gets in return, though, is his own face staring back at him, pupils dilated, skin pale and ashen. He touches his hand to the cold metal of the faucet, running his fingers under the tepid stream of water. After splashing his face, he's able settle his breathing. Sitting back on the edge of the tub, he tries to make sense of what happened. The only logical conclusion he can come to is that it was a dream. An astoundingly vivid dream, yes, but a dream nonetheless. What other explanation can there be? It felt so real, unlike any dream he's ever had, but he can't come up with any other explanation that seems valid.

He struggles to remember all the details. Rhett had been there, he knows that. The image of Rhett’s wild eyes is burned into Link’s brain, cutting through the fog. He had held Link up at the end, he remembers, but it's the beginning moments Link can't comprehend. Had he been in Rhett's arms? He touches tentative fingers to his neck, remembering the sensation of wet lips there. He shakes his head, not wanting to linger too long on the thought of Rhett's lips on his skin. He's had dreams like that before, of course; you can't be friends with someone for thirty years without that kind of thing happening, right?

But this was something different. Deep in the recesses of his heart, he knows this was different. But he needs to be able to rationalize it.

 _It was just a dream_. He touches his hand to his chest, the warmth from his palm grounding him, bringing him back into reality. _Get it together, Neal._

Finally feeling calm, he returns to the bedroom and climbs into bed. Eventually he falls asleep, but it’s fitful. He slips in and out of consciousness, never able to fall back into a deep sleep.

In the morning he feels scattered, his uneven sleep setting him up for an off-kilter day. Something about the dream lingers with him, stays on his mind. He wants to be able to shake it off, they've got a busy day ahead of them. He rolls into Rhett’s driveway with an apprehensive mind, emanating a jittery energy. He watches Rhett approach the car and they lock eyes through the windshield for a moment. It’s held a little too long for Link's comfort, and he feels the need to break away, to look anywhere but at Rhett's face. He's sure it's just him, but when Rhett enters the car, the door closing loud and heavy, Link can't help but feel an unspoken awkwardness between them. Each time he looks right to turn a corner, he's sure he notices Rhett's' eyes on him, watching him. The ride to the studio passes in near silence—not a wholly unusual occurrence—but in Link's heightened emotional state it feels strange. The silence between them is weighty and worrisome.

Though work is a helpful distraction, he has trouble making it through the shoot that morning. At some point Rhett gets too close, touches him on the shoulder with delicate fingers. Link can’t remember why, maybe it was offered in comfort after he lost whatever game they were playing. Maybe it was to get his attention when he drifted off into his thoughts for a moment. Whatever the reason, Rhett’s touch makes him jump and he nearly falls out of his chair. The following moments are uncomfortable and he hopes they don’t make it into the final cut of the episode.

Rhett tries to offer an apology, mumbling a confused, “Sorry…”, and Link tries to tell him it’s fine, no problem at all. He blames it all on his lack of sleep, too much coffee, anything but the truth; that Rhett’s touch brings back images from his dream, images he can’t sort out, can’t rationalize. He remembers his legs around Rhett’s waist. He remembers the feel of Rhett’s skin on his. He remembers the panic, the fear, the confusion. It’s all too much, the lingering memories feel too real.

He sees the questioning on Rhett’s face, the concern in his eyes. Link knows he’s got to find a way to snap out of it, but Rhett’s furtive glances and distressed demeanor are not helping.

Luckily, the time not spent shooting is eaten up by one meeting after another. Link’s nerves are soothed by the perpetual motion of the office. He and Rhett throw themselves into decision-making mode, barely stopping to have lunch. They hardly share two words with each other outside of the episode; any time spent alone is laced with questioning silence. Link wonders if Rhett's just feeding off Link's nervous vibe, or if something is up for him too. He continues to brush it off as if it’s his own problem, assuming he’s projecting his feelings onto Rhett.

But the same thought nags at him in the back of his mind throughout the day until it’s the only thing Link can think about. He loses the ability to focus and it finally comes to a head during a rare quiet moment late in the afternoon.

He was trying to clear his inbox, responding to the numerous unanswered emails taunting him there. But memories of the dream, of Rhett's hands on his skin, of the sense of panic that he felt crowd his thoughts, take over, make it impossible to function. Rhett, too, is typing away on his computer, the air between them still alight with an uncomfortable tension. Link decides something must be done to break it. Why is he letting a stupid dream ruin his day, after all?

After staring at the back of Rhett’s head for what feels like an eternity, he is suddenly compelled to act. Looking around him, he finds one of the dogs’ tennis balls under his chair. In a moment of impulsivity, he throws it, hard, hitting Rhett square in the shoulder.

“Jesus! Link...what the hell—“

“Sorry…I…”

“You...what?”

“I just wanted to get your attention.”

“You could’ve tried ‘Hey, Rhett’ or ‘Rhett, I need to talk to you’ or even ‘Yo! Rhett’. I would’ve responded to any of those.”

“Yeah...I suppose…”

Rhett stares at him for a brief moment, seeing the gears turning behind Link’s cloudy expression.

“Ok, you’ve got my attention.” He turns, spinning in his chair to face Link. “So…”

“So…” Link wants to choose his words carefully, unsure of what, exactly, he wants to say. He lets the air between them hang with heavy silence before barreling ahead, “I’m having a weird day.”

“Oh? How weird?”

There’s something in Rhett’s expression that Link can’t read, which gives him pause, makes him second guess even bringing up what’s on his mind. But he’s in too deep now. He started this, he might as well finish it.

“Real weird. You...you ever have a dream that, I don’t know, just stays with you?”

He’s clearly got Rhett’s attention now, he can see it in the lean of Rhett’s body, how it pitches forward, his elbows teetering on his knees. He sees it in the dark glint, the bright sparkle of his eyes. Rhett’s listening with his whole body, voice low and calm.

“Stays with you? How do you mean?”

“It’s hard to describe, I mean, it was just so vivid. I can’t shake it.”

“Hm.” Rhett leans back, folding his arms across his chest, eyeing Link carefully. “Was I there?”

Link scoffs, assuming Rhett’s toying with him, “Why you gotta assume everything’s about you?”

“Just a hunch.” Rhett’s gaze is steady, holding the eye contact longer than feels comfortable.

“Ok, yeah, you were there, but that’s not...I mean, I guess it is, but—“

His rambling is cut off by Rhett, who speaks in a clear, even tone.

“Link, just spit it out. Just tell me.” If Link didn’t know better he’d swear there was a hint of desperation in Rhett’s voice, but again he assumes he’s projecting.

“It’s like it really happened, you know? It sounds ridiculous to say it out loud, but I felt like I was transported in the dream, like I woke up somewhere else. Like I wasn’t asleep. But then I woke up in my bed, same as always. It was so bizarre. You ever have a dream like that?”

Rhett goes quiet for longer than feels comfortable, his fingers tapping against his knees, his eyes scanning Link’s face. Link’s about to break the silence with a _never mind_ or a _don’t worry about it_ , when Rhett whispers, “Yeah, Link. I have.”

Link’s unsettled by the tone of Rhett’s answer, so he goes back to rattling off excuses for his feelings, “Well, it’s making me feel weird. I’ve been so jittery all day. Feels like I can’t calm down. Maybe I just need a good night’s sleep. Sorry I’ve been so up and down today, it’s not your fault, I just—“

“Link…” Rhett interrupts, then hesitates, waiting until they lock eyes again, “I got to tell you, I got to ask you something. But I need you just to go with me. I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

“Rhett, I—“

“I’m serious. I’m not trying to fuck with you. But I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?”

“Of course, Rhett, what—“

“What if—just go with me here—what if it _wasn’t_ a dream?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> Big thanks to @heatgeneratingtechniques, @afangirlsplaylist, and @missingparentheses for their amazing beta skills and encouragement.


	8. Overlap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape is the easy way out, a crutch Rhett’s relied on for far too long now. It takes all the strength he’s got to stay and face what he has coming, whatever it may be.

Truth or lies.

Forward or back.

Rhett is given choices. The lie would be so much easier. It would keep him safe, keep his family safe. Keep his heart safe. He’s aware that the truth is a tough sell and that there’s a good chance Link won’t believe him. Rhett imagines him calling Jessie and how the two of them would confront him, sit him down and urge him to take a break. In his head he can hear how they’d try to talk him out of his presumed delusion.

But he puts faith in Link’s ability to trust him, blindly, wholly. He knows Link saw something, felt something. He wouldn’t have brought it up if he hadn’t. He let Link take the lead, and he led them here.

_What if it wasn’t a dream._

The story spills out of him so fast that he can see Link racing to keep up. He tells how it first happened, how he realized what was going on, how he took control of it. Not the whole truth, of course, just enough of it to determine their path, set them down the right road. He hopes the rest of the story — the things he’s done, the way he feels — will come through time, accompanied by forgiveness. One bombshell at a time is enough.

When he runs out of story to tell, the room falls silent. Rhett realizes he probably should have picked a better time for this conversation. They’re still at work and there’s not enough time or privacy for them to fully process or talk through everything. Rhett leans back in his chair, folding his arms in an attempt to guard himself from Link’s reaction.

Link doesn’t give him much in response. Uncharacteristically, he seems to have nothing to say. Rhett can tell there are questions forming, sees it in the shape of his brow. But he never asks them; instead he rises from his chair and walks straight out of the office.

Rhett lets him go. He watches from the window with a blank expression as Link gets into his car and drives away. It’s Friday afternoon and Rhett has to make excuses for Link, telling the crew that a family issue came up and he had to leave. An hour later, he calls an Uber to get himself home. In the backseat of the car, stuck in inevitable traffic on the freeway, he imagines how easy it would be to leave and find someplace safe to hide. He conjures up a universe in which he’s the lone survivor of some great and terrible disaster, left to solitude in a wild dystopia.

Blinking away tears he grounds himself back to reality. Escape is the easy way out, a crutch he’s relied on for far too long now. It takes all the strength he’s got to stay and face what he has coming, whatever it may be.

He’s out in the backyard, watching the boys run around shooting each other with nerf guns. They’re barefoot in the afternoon sun. At the back of his mind, Rhett worries that one of them might step on something sharp or trip and fall, but he’s too distracted to intervene. He nurses a cold beer, his third in as many hours. The endless waiting to hear from Link is starting to get to him and he keeps hoping the beer will help numb things a bit.

It isn’t working.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and pulls it out, squinting to see the notification in the bright sun. When he sees Link’s name his heart starts racing, but he’s disappointed by the message.

_Ok_.

That’s all it says: _Ok_.

Rhett has no idea what that means. He stares at the screen for a long moment, hoping to see three little bubbles appear, the telltale sign that Link is adding to his message, but after a few minutes, he gives up hope. It appears that’s all he’s getting for now. With nervous fingers, he taps out a response, one he hopes will elicit more than two letters of text back.

_Does that mean we can talk? I know you probably have a lot of questions._

He waits, but it’s nearly ten minutes before Link responds.

_You’re not wrong about that, buddy._

Is that an attempt at a joke? Or is he angry? Rhett decides he can’t have this conversation over text and writes back, asking if Link is free to meet him for a drink in an hour. He doesn’t want to try to squeeze in a conversation during work tomorrow, and he fears that if they don’t talk now, the week will get away from them and they’ll never get to it. It’s now or never. At least, that’s how it feels.

Link is, again, slow to respond, but eventually agrees to meet, choosing a quiet bar halfway between their houses. Rhett gets there first and finds a booth in the back, away from the few patrons crowded at the bar. His nerves get the best of him so he orders and downs a shot of whiskey before Link arrives. He orders two more, setting one in front of him and the other across the table. It sits there on its little white napkin, its presence amplifying the emptiness of the seat across from Rhett. Looking at the time, he wonders if Link decided not to come. It wouldn’t be like him to flake out on Rhett, but Rhett has no idea what might be running through his mind right now.

Rhett’s about to text him, he’s got his phone in his hand, when he hears the groan of the vinyl across from him. He looks up to see Link pick up the shot that was left for him and swallow it in one smooth sip. Rhett watches as the alcohol visibly affects him, causing him to shake his head and scrunch up his face. Rhett’s always found Link’s reaction to alcohol adorable, though he’s only now able to admit that to himself. It takes an unbelievable amount of self-control to stop himself from teasing Link. He’s guessing that won’t help his situation any.

“You didn’t have to drink that, y’know. Or at least you didn’t have to shoot it.”

“Yeah, well, too late for that.”

They make eye contact for the first time since Link’s arrived, and the coolness of his eyes cuts Rhett to his core. Rhett sees so much hidden behind his eyes: confusion, hurt, and the faintest glimmer of curiosity. He’s hoping he can play on Link’s adventurous side, get him excited about what’s happening. He hopes Link can see the possibility that lies ahead of them and they can skip over all the lying Rhett’s had to do to keep it a secret.

He waits for Link to speak first, the awkward silence growing, unfurling around them. It goes on for what seems like an eternity, both of them collecting their thoughts and gearing up for the conversation ahead. Rhett nearly jumps when Link finally speaks, even though his voice is low and soft in contrast to the noise of the bar.

“How does it work?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why you?”

“I don’t _know_.”

“What happens to the other you while you’re there? What happens to the you that’s here when you’re there?”

“I don’t know, Link—”

Link’s words come tumbling from his mouth faster than he realizes, “How is it even possible? Like, physically, I mean...it’s gotta break some of the laws of physics. And how many...universes, or whatever, d’you think there are? You said you imagine where you want to go, but does that mean that anything is possible? Like the two of us, you and me, theoretically, are capable of doing anything? What does that even mean?” He’s speaking too quickly for Rhett to even try to answer him, “And do you think anyone else has this…what are we calling it? Ability? To inter-dimensionally time travel?”

“Well, there’s not really time travel involved—“

“And how were you able to bring me into it? Can I do it on my own? Can you teach me?”

“I don’t know...Link. Stop for a second.” Rhett reaches out and places a hand on Link’s forearm, jolting him out of his circuitous train of thought. “I don’t have any of those answers for you. I’m as in the dark about all of it as you are. It just started happening one day, and I dunno, it was fun, so…”

“Oh, I’m glad it was fun for you.” Rhett hears the tone in his voice and braces himself for what he knows is coming next. “So you’ve been doing this for...how long now? Months? And you kept it from me, from Jessie, for what reason, exactly? I could tell, y’know. That something was up with you.” Link’s nervous energy has caused him to pull apart the napkin under his drink, and he punctuates each word of his next sentence by forming it into little balls and launching them in Rhett’s direction.

“I wish you coulda trusted me enough to tell me what was really going on.”

Rhett dodges each of Link’s throws, contemplating throwing the little pieces of trash back at him. But he lets it go, knowing that Link has a right to be hurt by his actions, more so than he even knows right now. Truthfully he’s not sure why he didn’t tell him, especially in the beginning, before there was a reason to lie.

“All I can say is, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you, man. I guess I was afraid. That if I told you, somehow...it wouldn’t be real anymore. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy or whatever.”

They stare at each other across the table, Rhett silently begging Link to understand, to see the impossible situation Rhett’s found himself in.

“How do I know you’re not?” Link’s voice rings like a bell, clear and crisp, laying the obvious question out on the table for them both to confront. “Huh? We’ve been working too hard; maybe this is just stress. And now I’ve gotten wrapped up in it, like, what d’ya call it...that thing...where two people simultaneously share a delusion. Dangit, what’s that word, it’s French or —“

“ _Folie a deux_?” Rhett suggests.

“Yeah, that. How do we know I haven’t just caught your hallucination?”

Rhett offers his hands up to Link in a gesture of surrender, “You’re right. That could be what’s happening. And I don’t blame you if you can’t believe me. I just...I have to follow what I feel, y’know? And it feels real. I think it felt real for you, too, or this would’ve been a much shorter conversation.”

Link blinks at him, leaning forward on his elbows and peering at Rhett through narrowed eyes for a moment. Then, seeming to give up on antagonizing Rhett further, he slumps back into the booth and crosses his arms, losing himself to contemplation for a few breaths.

Link speaks his next words in a low whisper, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “It was...well...I guess I don’t have to explain to you how it felt. The whole day after it happened I couldn’t get it off my mind.” His voice gains confidence and he looks up to speak directly into Rhett’s gaze. “But...I’m still not sure it’s enough to convince me of everything you’ve told me.” Rhett hears Link’s thoughts before he even says them aloud. “I need to you show me. I need you to convince me it’s real, Rhett.”

* * *

 

Three days later, they’ve locked the door to the office, told their wives they’re working late, and Rhett’s working on setting up a clumsy circle of pillows on the floor. He’s not sure why he thinks a circle of pillows will be helpful, but it seems like the thing to do. He thinks back to what helped him when he was first learning how to do this and remembers needing to feel fully relaxed. He lights a few candles in an attempt to create a warm and inviting space, hoping it will help Link feel safe.

When it seems like Link has finally stopped pacing, Rhett dims the lights and they sit across from each other in the little circle, legs crossed on the floor, knees nearly touching.

“So what do we do?” Link’s anxiousness is palpable. He’s eager to get started, but there’s obviously a hundred questions running through his mind.

“I’m not sure exactly. I kind of sit and calm my mind, push away any thoughts, and it just...happens.”

“Ok, so what should I do?”

“I don’t know. I’m gonna try to bring you with me again. I was thinking that maybe if I just focus on you, or your name, or something, while I’m...uh...opening my mind,”—Rhett cringes at how that sounds; he’s not used to talking about any of this out loud, and the words come out sounding like bad dialogue from a low budget sci-fi movie—“that you’ll just pop along with me. I really have no idea if it will work, but it did once, right? So, what’s the harm in trying?”

Link visibly scoffs, his face working through twenty different expressions before he speaks. “The harm? You seem to forget that you know how to do this, and I don’t. There’s no harm for you, but what if I get stuck somewhere or you send me to the wrong place, or we end up on opposite sides of the Earth and I can’t find you to get you to take me home? Seems like there’s a lot of harm that could be done, if you ask me.”

“What if we start slow? I’ll take you somewhere that’s almost the same as here, so if you get stuck it won’t be so bad.” Rhett shrugs, knowing his suggestion is not going to go over well.

“That’s your solution? If I get stuck, it won’t be so bad? What happens here while we’re gone, exactly?”

“I told you, I don’t know. I think time just, like, freezes here, or something, I always end up back where I started, as if nothing’s happened.”

“You think _time just, like, freezes_? Gosh, Rhett, you’re going on guesses?”

“What else would you have me go on? It’s not like I can look it up in some scientific journal, buddy. You wanna see if you can find a credible source with actual scientific information about what we’re doing, you go right ahead. Get back to me when you find something useful, will ya?”

“How is this not terrifying to you?” Link asks as his hands fidget with the hem of his shirt.

Rhett sees the apprehension and fear in Link’s eyes; he hates that he doesn’t have better answers for him. “You’re just gonna have to trust me, Link. I wouldn’t do it if I thought something bad was gonna happen.” Rhett reaches across the circle and pats Link’s shoulder, holding it firm while he looks him in the eye.

Link softens, exhaling with a deep sigh, “Ok.”

“Ok,” Rhett needs to talk himself through the plan one more time, “So I guess the goal right now is just to see if I can take you with me. I think we shouldn’t stay long. Just see if I can get us there and get us back. Right?” He looks over and sees Link nodding, less in agreement and more in anxious solidarity. “Last time it happened because I thought about you,” Rhett clears his throat, his voice suddenly shaky, “I...uh...I wished you were there with me.”

Link looks at him, a slow smile creeping up his face, “You were thinkin’ about me?”

“Shut up.”

“No, really? What? Is that how it happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Rhett backtracks, “It, um, it was just a passing thought...but I think that’s what did it, yeah.” Rhett’s desperate to end this line of questioning, remembering what he was doing when he was thinking about Link, why he wanted him there. He remembers whispering his wish into the other Link’s ear as his hands had roamed the expanse of his body. Rhett feels his face flush and he has to look away, busying himself with fluffing the pillows around him, anything to distract him from Link’s prying eyes.

When he feels ready, Rhett gives Link a blindfold, explaining the importance of sensory deprivation. Gently, he encourages Link to try to empty his mind of thought. He walks him through his own process, how he repeats a silent mantra, letting go of the world around him. Rhett guides with his deep breaths, waiting for Link’s breathing to sync with his own. Rhett feels the familiar twinge, as if his heart’s being pulled by a taut cord, drawn from his body, away from the Earth. He recognizes the release, knows when he’s been freed from the confines of the material world. From here it’s all about focus, so he keeps the image of where he wants to go fresh in his mind’s eye. Knowing he needs to ensure that Link stays with him, he weaves in images of Link, keeping attention on their shared journey. He needs this to work; he has so much to prove, so much he wants to show.

The air around him pressurizes and he knows he’s there, feels the weight of the world return, the dull ache in the front of his head. Rhett flutters open his eyes to find himself sitting at his desk in their office. He spins in his chair and sees Link curled up on the couch, a complacent look on his sleeping face. Crossing the room with fervent strides, he shakes Link awake, antsy to be sure it worked.

Link sits up with a jolt, his breathing suddenly labored. Rhett’s afraid he might faint, so he places steadying hands on his shoulders. Link’s eyes blink away his lingering confusion and settle on Rhett’s face.

“Rhett? What the hell just happened?”

“Hey buddy, I think we did it.”

“We did? It worked?” Link’s speech is slow, slurred—Rhett can tell he’s still recovering from the physical shock of what they just went through.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s really you, right?”

“It’s me...woah...I feel so weird.”

“I know...you’ll get used to it. It gets easier...or at least you’ll learn what to expect. Maybe you should lie down for a minute?”

“Not on your life, brother,” Link jumps up from the couch, shaking off the last remnants of travel fatigue. “I wanna see what we came to see. I wanna know this is real.” He bolts across the room and flings open the door of the office, peeking his head out and looking around. “Looks normal so far.”

“Yeah, remember, I thought it would be easiest if we came somewhere familiar, something similar to our own world. There will probably be little changes, so keep your eyes open.”

They tiptoe out of the office, as if they need to be quiet—behaving like spies in enemy territory, getting the lay of the land. It’s quiet; everyone’s gone for the day, it seems. They make their way to the studio, each training their eyes on the details of the room, seeking out the differences.

“Huh,” Link’s standing in front of the GMM desk, eyes flitting between the logo on the front and Rhett, eyes bright with incredulity, “It’s yellow.”

Rhett hustles around the desk to stand at Link’s side, staring at the small crested flame insignia that is so familiar to them after all these years. “Yep, it’s definitely yellow. I told ya, it’ll be small changes.”

“I feel like this is one of those _Spot the Differences_ games, y’know, like they had in those magazines in the doctor’s office when we were kids.”

“ _Highlights_?”

“Yeah! _Highlights_! This is just like that.”

Rhett lets out a belly laugh that fills the empty studio, echoing back around them. He lets himself steal a glance at Link, eyes warming at the sight of Link’s obvious excitement. He watches him meander around the room, every so often finding a trinket or set piece that’s unfamiliar, and holding it up to show Rhett. After a while the novelty wears off and they find themselves seated at their usual spots behind the desk.

“So,” Link’s thinking out loud now, processing the ramifications of what he’s seeing, what he’s experiencing, “this is us, but not us, not really.”

“I guess that’s the big question.” Rhett’s glad to finally have someone to talk this through with. He’s wrestled with these questions for so long, never able to settle on any answers. “Are we inherently who we are, or are we ourselves because of our circumstances, our choices? I suppose it boils down to the ol’ Nature vs. Nurture debate, in a way. Did all these versions of us start from one primary, central version? And all these other universes are diversions from that main thread? Or have they all always existed, laterally, never connecting or overlapping?”

“What do you think?” Link’s got his head resting in his hand, twisting to look up at Rhett’s face as he speaks.

“Me? I think there’s just one us, and lots of possibilities.”

“That’s a good theory. Somehow it makes me feel better, like I’m still important. Though, I guess I’m assuming that I’m the main version of me, y’know? Maybe we’re one of the diversions. Copies, facsimiles.” Link goes quiet as that thought tumbles through him. “I gotta wonder if their souls are our souls, y’know?”

“Hm, I guess I never thought about it in terms of souls. Like, you think we’re all linked by one soul? Me and this Rhett have different thoughts, make different choices, but our souls are the same?”

“Yeah. That’s what I think.” Link sounds so sure of himself, as if it were the simplest question anyone could ask.

Rhett runs his fingers across the smooth grain of the wood desk, feeling the same sense of history and pride he feels when seated at their own desk.

“I’m glad you’re here, Link.” Rhett breathes his words into the air, hoping they don’t land on Link’s ears as desperate as they sound in his own head.

“Oh, yeah? I woulda figured you’d met so many versions of me that you’d gotten sick of me by now.”

Rhett chuckles, eyes lingering on Link’s profile. “Nah, none of them were the same.”

“Good answer.” Link’s smirk is practically audible.

Rhett’s hit by an unexpected pang of guilt. Why didn’t he share all of this with Link earlier? Why was he so afraid? How is he ever going to tell Link and Jessie all of the things he’s let himself do? He’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to find the courage to tell them, though his conscience is an unrelenting nag, reminding him of the oaths he took, of the promises he made to both of them.

Standing quickly, Rhett suddenly longs for home—he wants to hug his kids tight and kiss Jessie, feel her hand in his; he’s desperate to hold onto those things while he still has them.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “You ready to go back?”

“How do we go back from this, Rhett? How do we live our lives knowing that all of this is out here?”

“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now. I’ve said it before and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but I don’t have any answers for you, buddy. Your questions are my questions.”

They make their way back to the office where they forgo the pillow circle, closing their eyes, Rhett again guiding them away from the bodies they’ve inhabited for only a short while. As they fling from universe to universe, Rhett holds tight to the thought of Link. He can’t risk letting him get lost out here, where things are so uncertain and lawless, where the rules of physics and logic hold little currency. Rhett wraps his projected self around Link like a thick blanket, protecting him, ensuring his safe passage home.

He’s jolted back to reality by Link falling into him, his head hitting Rhett’s shoulder with a dull thud. They’re back in the little circle from which they left, but Link, shocked by suddenly being in his own body again, is a shaking mess in his lap. Rhett holds him close, letting himself feel the warmth of Link’s body in his arms. He’s hit with the urge to rock Link like a child, wanting nothing more than to curl up with him on the floor and fall asleep. Eventually, he pulls himself out of that fantasy and coaxes Link from his daze until he’s able to sit up on his own.

Before Rhett can say anything, Link bursts into wild laughter and rolls around on the floor at Rhett’s feet. Rhett smiles at the sight of him, knowing the kind of exhilaration he must be feeling.

Regaining control of himself, Link slaps Rhett on the shoulder, shouting, “Let’s do it again.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you @afangirlsplaylist, @heatgeneratingtechniques, & @missingparentheses for your help and beta skills :)
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcome and appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has been supporting this story, I know I’m slow to update and y’all are sticking with me anyway. 
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @the-average-bear, if you’re into that kind of thing.


	9. Force & Motion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like the man himself, Link’s black horse is skittish and unwieldy. But Link’s eyes are glimmering under his oversized cattleman hat, lit with impulsive fire. He’s ready to meet the challenge they’re facing with his typical impetuous fervor.

The wind whips up over the grassy plain, catching the mid-afternoon sunlight and reflecting up into Rhett’s eyes. As he squints into it, he allows himself to breathe in the scene in front of him. The bright cloudless sky is matched in its vastness by the open, rolling prairie. The herd of cattle spread across the horizon is seemingly indifferent to the picturesque landscape, most of the cows lazily munching away at the tall grass. Rhett pulls tight at his reins and settles deeper into his saddle. He knows what they’re supposed to do next but is still unsure if they can actually pull it off. 

Twisting his head, he catches Link’s eye. Like the man himself, Link’s black horse is skittish and unwieldy. But Link’s eyes are glimmering under his oversized cattleman hat, lit with impulsive fire. He’s ready to meet the challenge they’re facing with his typical impetuous fervor.

“You ready?” Rhett shouts across the space between them.

“You best believe it, brother,” Link replies, his tone full of impossible swagger. Rhett shakes his head in disbelief, but Link’s only response is to pull his face into a wider, more mischievous grin. 

They set off across the field, all clumsiness and uncertainty they may still be feeling swept up in the swirling breeze and their own adrenaline. 

Rhett was wary when Link said this was something he wanted to do, but now that he’s watching him gallop out in front of him, he sees the beauty in choosing this ridiculous timeline. Link’s voice lifts and carries on the wind as he hoots and hollers at each bull he chases down. Rhett chuckles; he should’ve known Link wouldn’t remember any of the research or training they’ve done over the last few days, all of which advised remaining calm and quiet as a fundamental principle of cattle herding. 

They get off to a rocky start, Link’s wild approach spooking the cattle and causing them to flee from Link and his horse rather than into the pen. After Link falls from his horse twice in the span of ten minutes, Rhett seriously considers scrapping the whole plan and taking them home to avoid any more serious injuries. He’s always worried about Link hurting himself, and adding in the unpredictability of a horse raises the chances of an accident exponentially. Eventually, though, Link calms himself, and they settle into a rhythm, gently guiding each animal into the corral, sharing gleeful looks of accomplishment at each success. 

After they close the pen and double check that they got all the cattle rounded up, they remain on their horses, Link asking if Rhett wants to go for one last ride before they have to leave in the morning. They trot out down a little tree-covered path that winds through the hills of the ranch. Rhett is content to ride at a leisurely pace and rehash their prowess as temporary cattle ranchers, but it seems Link has other ideas.

Rhett’s in the middle of celebrating his own heroics, reminding Link how he came to his rescue during his last hard fall from his horse, when Link interrupts. He clearly tuned out of Rhett’s monologue several minutes ago.

“Wanna race? I bet I can beat you to that tree over there.” He points off toward the horizon at a tall, twisty tree that cuts an impressive silhouette in the setting sunlight.

“Uh, do I need to remind you that you’ve already fallen twice today,” Rhett scoffs. “You sure you want to risk it?”

“I just wanna see how fast I can go, y’know? I mean, learning how to herd was fun, but I wanna ride like...like someone’s chasing us. Don’t you wanna speed off into the sunset, see what we’re capable of? Isn’t that why we’re here?” Link’s persuasive when he wants something. It doesn’t usually take much for Rhett to cave, and today is no different. “No risk, no reward...right, buddy?”

“No risk, no reward.” Rhett grins, matching Link’s twitchy mood. “All right, but don’t blame me when you end up with a concussion again.”

“Ok...and loser has to buy lunch on Monday...for the whole crew.”

“Oho, that’s quite a wager, we have a lot of employees these days.” Rhett doesn’t know why he’s arguing; he knows he’ll give Link anything he asks for.

“It’s not a bet if you don’t have anything to lose.”

“Add in: loser sleeps on the couch tonight and you’ve got a deal, my friend.”

The ranch house only has one bed, so they’ve been alternating between bed and couch each night. The inconsistency of it has started to take a toll on Rhett’s back. The plan had been to flip a coin for their seventh and final night, but this seems like a better way to settle it. Rhett’s mind has wandered over the fact that there’s only one bed in the house they presumably share in this timeline, knowing what that likely means about their relationship here. Link hasn’t caught on, and for that Rhett’s grateful; he’s not ready to discuss what’s he’s discovered about them yet. He wants to protect it for as long as he can, knowing the revelation of it will likely blow up his life. So he keeps the knowledge of it close to his heart, preserving it for himself.

“Sounds good to me, brother.” Link tightens his grip on his reins and sits up tall, readying himself for a quick breakaway.

Link gives a countdown but jolts off before he reaches one, his exuberant laugh planting itself in Rhett’s core, vining its way through him. Rhett hesitates, watching Link as he bounces in his saddle, muscles tight in determination, his sweaty t-shirt billowing in the wind. Coming back to his senses, Rhett nudges at his horse and speeds off into the dust cloud Link has created in his wake. There’s little chance he can win, Link’s head start assuring him the victory. Rhett focuses on enjoying the thrill of the ride. He’s never ridden a horse at this speed before, and he feels his pulse beat through his skin, hears his own breath heavy in his ear. Link was right: this is why they’re here.

He chases Link past the tree, and they both come to clumsy stops, their horses worked up from the ride. Rhett lifts his hat and wipes at his sweaty brow, running his fingers through his damp hair. Link continues to cackle from his perch atop his horse, his excitement barely containable.

“You cheated!” Rhett shouts at him as soon as he catches his breath. “You took off before you got to one, man. No way I’m giving up the bed.”

“What?” Link’s voice drips with mock incredulity. “I won fair and square...you’re just slow. And a sore loser. The bed is mine, buddy.”

They glare at each other from their horses, Link tipping back his hat and cocking his head, a smirk playing on his lips. He shines golden, tall and lean in the waning sunlight, and again Rhett knows he can’t win. Even if he’s right.

“Or maybe,” Link continues as he canters past, making his way back to the ranch, “we’ll just have to share.”

Rhett’s heart stops at Link’s taunting words. They haven’t shared a bed in years, and with everything that’s happened, Rhett’s not sure it’s a good idea. He doesn’t trust himself, not anymore. He guides his horse into a trot behind Link, a pool of nerves welling up in his stomach.

They settle their horses into the stable as the sun makes its final dip below the horizon. Tired and sweaty, but satisfied from the accomplishments of their day, they cook up a quick dinner of chicken, beans, and salad and decide to eat out on the front porch. Rhett devours his food and picks at the pieces Link inevitably leaves behind on his plate. After eating, they open a couple of beers and share contented silence as they watch the stars emerge. 

They sky out here is almost too vast to comprehend. It’s a cloudless night, and the only sound is the quiet chirping of insects in the distance. Rhett searches the stars for patterns, trying to remember long forgotten names of constellations. Orion’s belt is always easy to spot, but he gives up after finding it, preferring to lose himself in the glittering ocean of the Milky Way that is so elusive in the sky above Los Angeles. 

Link’s voice breaks the silence, “Reminds me of home, y’know?” Rhett looks over to see his eyes gleaming in the bright moonlight. He’s struck with the urge to spill everything he’s been holding onto, as if the quiet blanket of night will ease the blow of it. He feels the words on his lips, knows the shape of them well. He stops himself, though, scared of his own reckless impulses, and lets Link continue, “...how there’s no city lights to compete with the stars. Makes me wanna...hang on--” Link stands abruptly and rushes back into the house, emerging a few minutes later with a ratty wool blanket. He strides down the steps of the porch and out into the dark of the night, not looking back as he calls, “You comin’?”

Rhett follows him away from the house, nearly bumping into him when he stops short, apparently satisfied with the spot he’s found. Link spreads out the blanket and lays down on his back, leaving room for Rhett to lie next to him. Rhett carefully eases down, finding a position that doesn’t tweak his back, which has already taken a beating from their week of horseback riding. 

The view out here is undoubtedly better than from the porch. Rhett lets his eyes flicker from horizon to horizon, the panorama proving to be overwhelming to his senses, making him feel small and inconsequential. Link sighs next to him and Rhett knows how he feels, can read the unspoken sentiment on the trail of his breath.

“I’m proud of us, Rhett,” Link whispers into the air, voice barely audible.

Rhett chuckles next to him, “We didn’t really do much. I mean, yeah, we got them all in the pen, but it’s not like we--”

“Stop,” Link interrupts, “can’t you just be proud with me? Don’t minimize it. What we did this week...there’s a version of me somewhere that would never dream of doing that. If you hadn’t shown me this, brought me here...I think I would’ve been too scared to ever do it on my own. And that’s sad. I don’t want my fear to hold me back, to hold us back. I’ve learned so much about myself this week...is that what it’s been like for you all this time? Does every place teach you something new about yourself?”

Rhett’s breath is shallow and he’s glad for the cover of darkness, it hides the tears in his eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess...yes. I’ve learned some things…” Rhett’s voice trails off, afraid of what he might say next. He doesn’t want to spoil this memory, stain it with his selfish confession. He wants to give Link this moment, let him revel in it for a while. Soon enough Rhett will give him a real answer to that question. He can’t keep it a secret for much longer, but now is not the time for it. 

They lie under the stars for a little bit longer, their conversation winding its way back to comfortable silence. Eventually, Rhett feels a chill settle over them as the last of the day’s heat dissipates and, shivering, they make their way back inside. They take turns showering, Rhett first, then Link. 

Rhett’s making up the couch when Link appears from the bathroom in only a thin white t-shirt and his boxer-briefs, hair messy and damp, a worried look written across his features. 

“Hey Rhett...can you look at this?” He twists his hips to show Rhett the back of his leg, which is covered in an angry looking dark purple bruise. It stretches from his backside almost to his mid-thigh, and the skin around it is swollen and tender looking. 

Rhett winces at the sight of it, rushing to the kitchen to find some ice. He discovers a large bag of frozen peas buried in the back of the freezer and decides it will have to do. He sits Link on the couch, helping him rest his leg on the coffee table, and presses the bag to the underside of his thigh. He sits down next to Link, holding the bag for him with one hand, the other guiding Link by the shoulder, helping him relax back into the couch. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Well...yeah, but it’s not so bad. Thanks for the ice…” Link’s eyes search Rhett’s face, no doubt picking up on the tender concern Rhett’s displaying. “You don’t have to...I mean, I can…” He reaches for the bag and his hand lingers on top of Rhett’s for a moment. Rhett knows he’s imagining things, but just before he pulls away, he swears he feels Link try to slip his fingers between Rhett’s. Rhett feels Link’s eyes on him but can’t meet them, choosing to return to tucking in the sheets on the sofa, busying himself with anything to distract from the way Link’s looking at him. 

Link clears his throat and speaks louder than is necessary, “So, how am I gonna explain this?” He pauses, a thought clouding his face, “Or will I not be bruised when we get back? Do injuries transfer? I mean, this isn’t really  _ my  _ body, right?”

“That’s a good question.” Rhett wanders the room, searching for the pillows they’ve been using for the couch. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out.”

“If it does, what do I say? Maybe I can hide it until Monday night and blame it on work?” Rhett hears the anxiety in Link’s voice but doesn’t have a good answer for him. “I hate this,” Link exhales, “the lying, coming up with excuses. I  _ hate _ it. How is it so easy for you?” Link’s not accusing; his tone is more questioning than spiteful, but it stings nonetheless.

“It’s not...it’s not easy for me.” Rhett finally turns to look Link in the eye, wants to show him that he means what he says. “I hate it, too. It’s just...I’m still scared. Aren’t you scared of how they’ll react?”

Rhett’s question hangs between them, neither able to come up with a satisfying answer. Eventually Link stands to examine his bruise and returns the peas to the freezer. He re-enters the living room and watches Rhett spread out the thin comforter over the small sofa.

“You’re not sleeping out here, Rhett.”

“It’s fine...really. I don’t mind the couch,” Rhett lies. He doesn’t feel like fighting for the bed, every muscle in his body is exhausted and he just wants to lie down; he doesn’t much care where. 

“That’s stupid, Rhett. Of course you mind. And...you’re right...I cheated at the race. Don’t kill your back for pride, man. Let’s just share; it’ll be like old times.”

Rhett bends, of course. He’s always been made of rubber when it comes to Link, so easily pliable, talked into anything. He brushes his teeth and crawls into the bed after Link, who’s already curled up on one side of the bed, flipping through the pages of one of the magazines they’d found earlier in the week.

“Anything good?” Rhett asks, nodding towards the glossy pages in Link’s hands.

“Eh, it’s mostly about architecture. I bet it’s yours.” Link flips to the front cover and finds the name on the address label. “Yup. Rhett J. McLaughlin.” He tosses the magazine aside and reaches to switch off the light.

They both blink into the pitch black of the room, Rhett careful not to move, hands folded carefully over his belly. Link wriggles around, searching for a comfortable position. He finds it on his side, facing Rhett. Though he can’t see him, Rhett knows Link is looking at him. He wishes he’d just go to sleep, let things lie for the night, but he can always tell when there’s something on Link’s mind. 

“What is it, Link? Just say it. I can hear you thinking from over here.” 

Link breathes out a sigh, still squirming,  “You know...I was mad at you, for a while,  _ so _ mad that you’d lie to me about something so big. And now...I dunno...I get it. It’s hard to explain all of this. But...it can’t go on much longer. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good, as long as we’re on the same page. We’re in this together, now. That’s gotta count for something.”

Rhett turns to face Link, resting his head on his hand. “Thanks...I mean...it’ll be easier if it’s both of us, I think. They can’t call us both crazy, can they?”

“Unless this really is just a shared delusion, in which case, I will one hundred percent blame you.” They both breathe out a laugh at that, and Rhett feels Link inch slightly closer. Link’s next words are spoken softly, “Remember our sleepovers?”

Rhett pulls at his memory. It’s so clear in his mind, the picture of them wrapped tight in their sleeping bags, both sprawled out on the floor of Rhett’s bedroom. 

“Of course.” 

“We’d stay up so late talking about so many ridiculous things. We’d make that fort with the sheet and turn on a flashlight, as if someone who came in the room wouldn’t be able to see the light under the sheet.”

“We were idiots, man.”  

“We should have a flashlight now. I feel like this is one of those silly ideas we’d’ve come up with when we were nine. You’d say, in that stupid voice you used to do, ‘When we’re in our forties, one of us will discover how to travel through dimensions and we’ll go on adventures through parallel universes.’ And I’d giggle like a moron until you continued the story.” Links voice starts to take on a sleepy drawl. “In the morning, you’d write down everything we could remember in that sketch book of yours, and I’d draw pictures to go with it. We should do that, tomorrow, write down this story.”

“Ok, we can do that.” Rhett waits for a response, but gets none. He hears the soft snore he recognizes as a sign of Link’s slumber. He shifts onto his back and blinks up at the ceiling until he feels the heavy pull of sleep wash over him. That night he dreams of home, of the sprawling green of the banks of the river; of the whirring sound of baseball cards wedged between the spokes of bicycles; of his friend, grinning wide as they run through a sun-drenched tobacco field. It’s the deepest, sweetest sleep he’s had in ages. 

* * *

 

They wake with the sun. During the night, Link, in his reckless sleep, has curled himself up into Rhett, his face nestled into Rhett’s chest, one arm draped across his middle. As Rhett rouses, he smells him, the soft scent of soap from his shower the night before still lingering in his hair and on his skin. Link stirs, lifting his head and blinking one eye open. 

Rhett moves to pull away, get out from under Link’s embrace, but to his surprise, Link holds tight.

“Wait...don’t...not yet.” He shimmies in a little closer, resting his head over Rhett’s heart, breathing to the beat of it. For a moment, Rhett wonders if he’s still dreaming and seriously considers pinching himself. 

“Hey Rhett…” There’s a question on Link’s sleepy tongue, one Rhett knows he’s not ready for.

“Yeah?”

“I need to ask you something. It’s been on my mind for a while.”

“Ok.” 

“We’ve done this a few times now. You’ve taken me everywhere I’ve asked about so far. And they’ve all been fun, really fun...but, I want you to take me somewhere else.” 

“Ok, just name it and--”

Link cuts him off, “The place I woke up in. The first time I traveled. When you wished for me to be there. I remember it. I didn’t tell you, but I do. I know I wasn’t there long, but…”

“You remember it?” Rhett sits up, forcing Link up along with him. 

“I mean...it’s not much...but, I remember how I woke up there.”  Link sits back for a loaded moment, one hand still on Rhett’s abdomen. Then, to Rhett’s absolute shock, he slides one leg across Rhett’s lap, resting on his thighs. He bends down closer, hands cupping Rhett’s face. 

Rhett’s heart thumps in his chest, pulse wild and terrified, as Link breathes his words onto Rhett’s lips, “It was something like this, right?”    
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @the-average-bear, if you're into that. 
> 
> Thanks to @missingparentheses & @heatgeneratingtechniques for your all you help, this would basically be just a big pile of commas without you ;)


	10. Constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This place, Link, it’s ours; it belongs to us. But we missed our chance to have it._

Link’s always loved Mondays. He loves getting up early, finds comfort in the routine of the work day. He’s proud of his own work ethic, his commitment to their company and their brand, but there’s a deeper truth. One that he’s pushed into the background for so many years.

Over time he’s discovered that his fondness for Mondays is directly related to his love for Rhett. It’s the small thrill he gets every time he picks him up in the morning. Even though they don’t say much in the car, he’s comforted by Rhett’s presence, by the warmth that envelops him when they nod at each other in silent acknowledgment. It’s his love for the man, what they’ve created together, their friendship, their bond. His commitment to their work is, in so many ways, his commitment to Rhett. There’s always been more to it for him, he knows that now, but fear kept him from admitting the truth to himself, and when he finally did, he always assumed his affection was one-sided.

So when he wakes up in Rhett’s arms in another universe one day, there’s a part of him that’s not entirely surprised. He’s seen this coming. Honestly, he’s dreamt about it for longer than he’d care to admit. But fear is a consuming and exhausting monster; it grips him tight, keeps him from letting Rhett know he’s in on the secret. He needs to be sure he’s not alone before laying so much of himself bare.

He’d be blind not to see it in Rhett, too, though. Rhett’s denial is a mirror, held up to show Link his own cowardice. Now, in this new reality, he lets Rhett show him the mysteries of the universe, follows him across space and time, hoping to get a glimpse of what was so briefly revealed to him the first time.

After a few trips, he starts to grow more comfortable with the idea that he might be ready. Ready to close the distance between them, to tell Rhett that he knows. But it’s all about timing, so he waits until he feels like he can’t take it anymore, like he might explode from the raging river of emotions welling up inside of him. On their final night in the ranch house, he feels braver than he has in a long time, so he talks Rhett into sleeping in the bed with him, wakes up in his arms again, and knows that it’s time.

* * *

  _“It was something like this, right?”_

Link’s words echo off the wood paneled walls of the little bedroom. The sun has barely risen, and the early morning light flickers through the thin white curtain. Link hears his own heart pounding in his ears and braces himself for the worst. He shouldn’t have done this; suddenly his decision seems rash, careless. Of course Rhett is going to reject him, he’s probably built all of this up in his own mind and--

“Link.” Rhett’s voice is barely there, more breath than sound, and Link watches a tear roll down his face. “How...how long have you known?”

Neither of them have moved an inch. They’re still speaking their words onto each other’s lips, pressed so close together that Link’s eyes can’t focus on Rhett’s features. All he can see is a wash of color, pink and gold and that familiar stormy green. Instead of fighting it, Link lets his eyelids close and he presses his forehead to Rhett’s.

“Forever. Since the day I met you. I don’t know, it’s just always been there.”

Rhett nearly chokes before replying, “Oh, I meant...did the memory just come back to you or...uh…” Link shifts in his lap, derailing Rhett’s train of thought momentarily. “Or did you know this whole time?”

“It was fuzzy, like a dream, but piece-by-piece it came back to me.” Link finally pulls back and gets his first good look at Rhett’s face since he crawled into his lap only minutes ago. “I didn’t know how to--”

Link is cut off again, this time by Rhett winding his fingers through his hair and pulling him down into a soft kiss. It’s tentative, exploratory, neither wanting to push the other too far too fast. The atmosphere shifts with Link’s hips, their kiss deepening as Rhett’s fingers walk their way up his thighs. Link’s hands are adventurous, exploring the long planes of Rhett’s back, slipping into his messy hair, scratching at his beard. Link whines when they break contact, the sound of it snapping Rhett out of the moment.

Gently, he pushes Link away, catching his breath. His hands rest on Link’s neck as he presses the top of his head into Link’s chest, shaking with an unspoken realization.

“Link...I...this is wrong. We can’t.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong.” Link drags his fingers along Rhett’s spine and presses a kiss into his hair.

“I know what you’re going through, Link. I’ve been there. But it’s a slippery descent, brother. It gets so easy to lose yourself. You don’t know--I haven’t told you--” Rhett stops himself from continuing, unable to look Link in the eye.

“So tell me. Or better yet, show me.” Link cups Rhett’s jaw and pulls him up so they are eye to eye. “I meant what I said...I want to you to take me there. Wherever it was I woke up. Show me what you’ve seen, Rhett. I think I deserve that much.”

Rhett nods but pulls away, moving Link back onto the bed beside him.

Taking Link’s hand, he whispers with a heavy sigh, “Ok, let’s go.”

“Now?”

Rhett rests his head on Link’s shoulder and speaks to the air around them, as if asking for silent permission for what he’s about to do.

“No time like the present."

* * *

 Less than a minute later they’re gone. The wood paneled walls dissolve into the ether, replaced by a field of stars that’s gone too soon for Link’s liking. Eventually, their destination comes into focus, the structure of the room expanding around them. Link feels dizzy, everything swimming and spinning around him. He grips tighter at Rhett’s hand and closes his eyes until it’s over.

After they recover from the journey, Rhett sits on a bench at the foot of the bed, watching Link take everything in. The house is quiet, the life held within it suspended in early morning tranquility. Link takes in the space, moving through the room to run delicate fingers over the furniture, stopping from time to time to examine pictures in frames. He opens and closes drawers, pulling out the clothes, papers and other random items he finds within as if he’s trying to memorize every detail at once, absorbing it all through osmosis.

Eventually Link runs out of things to explore and sits back down next to Rhett on the little bench.

“So,” he starts as he takes Rhett’s hand in his again, the act still novel for him, not yet used to the weight of Rhett’s hand in his own or the feel of their fingers as they intertwine. “This is our house. It’s nice. Feels like us, y’know?”

“Technically that last house was our house, too. Though, I gotta say, I’m a bigger fan of this one.”

“Oh yeah? The cowboy thing doesn’t do it for you?”

The chuckle that escapes Rhett’s lips at Link’s suggestion is labored, his smile betraying a troubled heart and mind.

“I mean, sure, it was fun. But, this one, I don’t know, it just feels so real. I used to think a lot about the Multiverse, y’know--”

“Oh, I know,” Link teases, trying to use levity to pull Rhett back from edge of the cliff he’s teetering on.

“And at the root of that obsession--”

“Obsession? I thought they were _layers_?”

“Was this,” Rhett continues, ignoring Link’s jabs. “That somewhere, somehow, the universe would allow this version of us to be more than just a fantasy I’d imagined.”

“A _fantasy_ , huh?”

“Guess that’s not the right word. Dream? Hope? Desire?” None of Rhett’s words seem satisfactory, so he lets them go, resolving to leave that thought unfinished. “This place, Link, it’s ours; it belongs to us. But we missed our chance to have it. Being here--you’ll see--it’s like an out-of-body experience. I want you to see it, I do, but there’s things you gotta understand. We can’t stay--”

“Hey,” Link hears the tremor in Rhett’s voice, sees his body shiver. “Don’t do that. I’ve only been here five minutes, man. We’re not gonna get very far if you start crying every two minutes.” His words are teasing, but the soft hand he places on Rhett’s back offers comfort; Link’s determined to lead them through this, so he feigns a calm, confident demeanor. They can’t both be a mess.

“C’mon.” Link stands and drags Rhett up with him. He pulls a little too hard, and Rhett nearly falls into him. He steadies himself with tentative hands on Link’s hips, pulling himself up to his full height and stretching his back. During their conversation on the bench, Link had momentarily forgotten how tall Rhett really was. His vulnerability had made him seem small, in need of protection and care. Here, at this proximity, Link craning his neck to look up into his eyes, Rhett’s height is dizzying, intoxicating. Part of him wants to scrap his plans for exploration and push Rhett down on the bed, show him all the other ways he can think to comfort him. He’s waited so long to be able to even think those thoughts freely; it seems like it’d be a waste to let the moment go unsatisfied.

Before he gets a chance to act, though, they hear a muffled cry of “Dad!” from outside the door. Link recognizes it as Lincoln’s voice, and his eyes grow wide with realization.  

Opening the door reveals his son, who, it turns out, is upset with something Shepherd has done, some imagined slight, a stolen video game or something. Link’s not really paying attention to the conversation, too in awe of the scene to be able to function. Rhett has no problem slipping into dad mode, and Link quietly wonders just how often he’s come here. He watches as Rhett handles the problem, talking it out with Lincoln, so comfortable in his role as the boy’s father. Lincoln calms down and wanders off down the hallway in search of cereal, shouting back behind him, “Thanks, Papa Rhett!”

Rhett visibly winces at the name, closing his eyes in anticipation of Link’s reaction.

Link lets out a ringing laugh and whispers, “ _Papa Rhett_...are you a smurf in this timeline?”

“Apparently.”

Link continues chuckling, but leans in close before speaking his next words. “I gotta say, I kinda like it. I mean, it’s sort of ridiculous, but so are you, so…” He takes the opportunity to run his fingers up and down Rhett’s sides, pulling a giggle out of him.

“Hey!” Rhett grips Link’s wrists, disrupting his movements, gaining the upper hand. “They gotta call us something, right? I can’t help it if I’m more creative and original than you.”

“Oh, is that what it is? Interesting. I guess it’s better than Dad and Daddy.”

“Oh, gosh! Yeah, I’m glad we didn’t go with that.”

Together they make their way downstairs, and soon the day is busy with activity. The details of the day are mundane: breakfast, cleaning, laundry, lunch, video games, homework. But each activity is punctuated with little realizations, especially for Link, sign posts that tell the story of their relationship here and what it means for them. At the breakfast table, Link reaches over and holds Rhett’s hand for no reason in particular. He’s pushing the limits, seeing what he can get away with. The act elicits no reaction from the kids, who continue their conversations without ever looking in their parents’ direction. There’s beauty in that moment that’s not lost on them; how something so extraordinary and revelatory for them is so exquisitely commonplace here.

For the rest of the day, they take every possible opportunity they can to touch each other. Link’s unloading the dryer and suddenly Rhett’s at his back, winding his arms around him, pressing his cheek into Link’s strong back. Rhett’s making lunch, spreading mayo on slices of bread as Link cleans up after him. Link slips in next to him and gives him a little smack on the backside. Rhett looks at him with curious eyes, only to find Link giggling his way through a shrug, muttering under his breath about his hand mysteriously slipping.

The kids all have chores. Rhett knows what they’re supposed to be doing, reads them from a chart on the wall. He struggles to get them to accomplish any of them, though, each one moaning that they’ll get to it in a minute. But then Link enters the living room, where they’ve all been lazily involved in separate activities--reading, drawing, building with legos--and with one command from Link, they simultaneously jump into action. Rhett stares at him, not sure how he feels about this particular dynamic.

In the evening Christy and Jessie come over for dinner, and they learn more about the arrangement of their relationships here. It’s revealed that after dinner the girls are taking the kids to their house for their week together. The whole time Christy and Jessie are at the house, Link can’t tear his eyes from them, even more curious about their relationship than his and Rhett’s. He watches intently as Christy brushes hair from Jessie’s face and takes her hand under the table. Rhett has to nudge him a few times and he realizes he’s been staring too long, earning inquisitive glances from Christy that make him flush with embarrassment.

Dinner is full of boisterous chatter, everyone sharing stories from the past week of things that happened at school or work. Rhett and Link have to fudge a few details, pulling funny work stories from their own lives, ones they can be fairly certain they’ve never told before. With every lull in conversation, Link takes stock of his heart, which feels full nearly to the point of bursting. Though so much here is different, he feels surrounded by familiar love and laughter. _If I were Rhett I’d probably be crying right now,_ he thinks as he chuckles to himself.

At some point in the meal, Link excuses himself to the bathroom. Checking the clock on the wall, Rhett realizes he’s been gone for a while. Worried, Rhett goes to look for him, joking that he just wants to make sure he didn’t fall in. He slinks through the house, finding the bathrooms empty. At the top of the stairs, he notices light spilling out from the door of the room next to the bedroom, their shared office. He pushes open the door quietly, revealing Link standing in the middle of the room, staring at the frames on he the wall.

Suddenly, he knows what Link’s found, and he can’t help the wild beat of his heart. He was going to bring him here later, maybe after the kids had left and they were alone, but Link’s always been one step ahead of him. He shouldn’t be so surprised he found it on his own.

“Hey…” Rhett whispers into the room. Link doesn’t move, and Rhett almost feels like he should leave, as though he walked in on something private, a moment not meant to be shared with him. But then Link turns and Rhett sees that his eyes are full of tears, a look of disbelief written across his face.

Rhett steps further into the room, coming to stand by Link’s side. He leans in close, the backs of his fingers brushing Link’s before he twines them together, raising their hands to press a kiss to the back of Link’s hand.

“So, you found it.”

Link laughs, and a smile spreads across his face. Rhett’s never seen anything so beautiful as the look Link is giving him. He sees his friend, first as that bright-eyed six year old on the first day of school, shy and anxious, then as a teenager, impulsive and awkward, and finally as the man before him, full of love and fascination.

He looks at the frame on the wall, sees what Link sees. To anyone else it would be unremarkable, nothing more than what it is: a crumpled piece of paper, spread smooth and sandwiched under a black mat, the words written on the surface nearly unreadable due to time and their scrawled teenage handwriting. But Rhett sees their own reflection staring back at them in the glass of the frame and knows this document’s worth.

“They didn’t lose it.”

“They didn’t lose it.” Rhett parrots Link’s words because what else is there to say? Their oath to each other was kept sacred here, its true meaning never forgotten. The words they whispered to each other in that pasture were more than just words here, they were promises. Promises this young Rhett and Link were somehow able to keep, to hold onto, to give life.

Link falls into Rhett’s arms, his face buried in Rhett’s chest. He hugs him so tightly Rhett struggles to breathe for a moment. Time and space get lost as they lose themselves in each other. Where they are, who they are, none of it matters as long as they are wrapped in each others’ arms.

The moment is interrupted by a groan from Lily, who appears in the hallway. “Ugh, guys! This is what you’ve been doing? We’ve been waiting for you. We’d like to have dessert sometime this century.”

They laugh and break apart, following Lily back downstairs to their waiting family. After dinner, the kids pack up their school bags to bring with them, but not much else as they likely have a second set of everything they need at the girls’ house. Rhett and Link watch them drive away into the night, and suddenly the house is too quiet, filled with the loss of energy that had been produced by their family.

They sit on the porch and watch the sunset in silent reflection.

After a time, Rhett finds the courage to speak again, giving voice to everything Link’s feeling.

“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? How normal this feels?”

Link nods, thinking about how this place, like their home, is nothing more than a culmination of a series of choices and interactions, tracked over time; the seconds counted, minutes added up, the sum equaling something greater than its parts. It’s a life like any other, familiar yet foreign, ordinary and incredible.

“We were idiots, Rhett.” Link looks at him in the fading light, etching the sight of him into his memory. “Not to realize that we could’ve done this.” He stands and offers out his hand, pulling Rhett into the house.

Once inside, he drags him up the stairs, back to the bedroom where it all started, where the universe collided them into each other.

He sits Rhett down onto the bed and presses a finger to Rhett’s lips when he starts to speak, no doubt to offer up a protest or some excuse Link would rather not hear. He stands in front of Rhett, the silence of the room deafening, encompassing. In that weighty wordless moment he undresses himself, pulling off his shirt over his head, slipping out of his pants, eyes unwavering, trained on Rhett through it all.

Stripped down to his boxers, he moves toward Rhett with purpose, one hand slipping into Rhett’s hair, the other cupping his jaw to tilt his head back.

“I want you, Rhett. I think I’ve always wanted you, but I never knew that I could have you, not like this. You said this place is ours, but we can’t have it. Why not? Who is making the rules here? As far as I can see we’re allowed to be here. You were given this gift. To see everything at once, to know the possibilities of our existence. Why should we waste that chance? What would doing nothing about it teach us? There’s gotta be a reason we’re here.”

Rhett’s not given a chance to respond; Link kisses the words out of his mouth. This time it’s wet and deep, stealing the breath from both of them with its brutality. Link shoves Rhett back up the bed, crawling over him, greedy for any and all contact he can get. His hands are quick, and before Rhett knows what’s happening, Link’s tugging off his t-shirt, trailing soft lines up his chest with his hands.

Rhett uses all his strength to flip them over, switching their positions, lost in the feel of Link, _his_ Link, underneath him. He tongue traces a wet line from Link’s collarbone to his ear, grinning at the sound he knows it will pull from him. He loves hearing Link make those noises, and the sound of it draws him to a heavy realization. He’s heard it before, but not by the man beneath him, not exactly.

It takes everything in him to push himself away. Link doesn’t make it easy for him, whispering reassurances with soft words and softer fingers; _it’s ok, baby, it’s ok._

But Rhett knows it’s not okay. It was foolish of him to think he could do this without explaining himself. Link’s offering himself up only knowing half-truths. Rhett knows that he’s made of glass when it comes to Link, so easy to see through. He’s sure Link’s put the pieces together, but there can be no absolution without acknowledgement, and Rhett desperately wants it all out in the open.

“Stop. Link. Please.” His words aren’t enough, Link is tenacious when he wants something, so Rhett grabs his wrists and pins them above his head, forcing him into stillness. “You have to stop. You have to listen. I have something I need to say.”

“There’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know, Rhett.”

“You’re wrong.” Rhett looks him in the eye, finds courage in Link’s soft expression. “I need to tell you I’m sorry. ”

“ _Sorry?_ ” Link can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Rhett you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Link’s laughter confuses him, for a moment. He’s been dragged down by his own guilt for so long, it didn’t occur to him that Link would so easily brush it off.

“This isn’t...you have no sins to confess, Rhett. I’m not stupid. You’ve been here before. I know what you’ve done. I forgive you.” Link speaks so simply, as if what he’s saying should be obvious.

Rhett pulls away in shock, standing at the side of the bed as Link sits up to look at him.

“What?”

“I know you’ve done this,” Link stands to press a kiss to Rhett’s lips, “and this,” he takes Rhett’s hands and wraps them around his waist, “I know we’ve been together, Rhett, and I forgive you.” Again, Link’s voice is clear and true and without a trace of hesitance.

“But...why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t _you_?” Link raises an eyebrow and smiles. “We’ve let our fear make our decisions our whole lives Rhett. Coming here...I see that now. I...this isn’t a normal situation. I can understand why you needed...well...me. I probably would’ve done the same. Actually, I’m a little jealous. You’ve, uh, you’ve gotten to do so many things that I’ve wanted to do for so long.”

“I can take you to those places, Link, I can show you--”

“No, that’s not--we don’t need to travel anywhere to do what I want.” Link circles Rhett, placing kisses along his shoulders, hands reaching through his arms to embrace him from behind.

_Oh. Right._

With Link’s arms around him, they sway on the spot, moving to the beat of their hearts, dancing to an unwritten song. Rhett lets Link guide him back to the bed, lets him strip him bare. He’s become fragile in the face of Link’s forgiveness. He’s not sure yet if he deserves it, but the words themselves are enough to break down his barrier for a moment, allow Link to slip in and take over.

No longer fully in control of himself, Rhett surrenders to the feel of Link’s skin on his. He’s wanted this for so long, built it up in his mind, that his body can’t help but overreact to each touch. He shivers as Link explores the length of him, learning how each muscle behaves under the heat of his hands. Link wants to know every inch of him, wants to write down what he finds, make a map so he can find his way here again.

He tries so hard to be careful with Rhett, but he finds it increasingly easy to push him to the edge over and over again. First with his hands, then with his mouth, he builds him up and breaks him down. On his knees he finds a sort of salvation, vindication for all the thoughts and words he’s swallowed since his youth. Rhett’s cries, each gasp and exclamation an affirmation that he’s making the right choice. He gains confidence as each twist and slip of his tongue earns rewards, which simultaneously satiate and spark his desire. A hundred different questions are running through his mind, so he asks them of Rhett’s skin, receiving answers through his hands, which grip and pull at his hair, which search for purchase in the sheets beneath him, which hold him down and pull him off.

It’s not enough, though; he needs more. Just at the edge, when he’s sure Rhett can’t take anymore, he stops. In the quiet moment between action and reaction, Link feels the weight of the years between them, the ones they’ve shared and the ones they’ve lost. It’s as if he’s trapped underwater, sinking lower and lower, watching life carry on above him. Everything is still and quiet, but if he doesn’t move, doesn’t kick for the surface, he’ll be lost. So he leans into it, slinking up Rhett’s body as he forces him back up the bed. Crawling into Rhett’s lap, which is quickly becoming his favorite place, he pulls Rhett up to sit so they’re chest to chest. He presses in for a kiss, needing to know Rhett’s mouth again. It feels like it's been eons since he last tasted him.

They lose themselves to the kiss, all other movement forgotten, abandoned to the connection of mouths and tongues and shared breath. It’s a kiss of desperation, of comfort and desire. It’s everything they need but not nearly everything they want. In due time, their neglected bodies demand attention again, asking for friction and movement. So they give in to it, moving together, earning identical sighs which devolve into breathy laughs, an awkward reaction to the newness of this situation. Rhett blinks as he looks into Link’s eyes, recognizing now what a cruel imitation his other experiences have been. Every other version of Link suddenly pales in comparison to this one, the images of them turning black and white in his mind. The Link in his hands is intensely vibrant, the blue of his eyes and pink flush of his cheeks lighting up like some sort of technicolor dream.

He kisses away those other memories, each undulation of his body driving them further and further away. With sweaty palms, he seeks out unexplored areas of Link’s body. They slip up his thighs, connecting with the smooth skin of his backside, gripping at the firm flesh he finds there. He makes note of the sound that draws from Link, saving it for later, in case he never hears it again. He brushes the backs of his fingers up Link’s abdomen, trailing through the dark hair of his chest, grinning as he pinches at first one nipple, then the other. Link’s hips stutter at that, his head falling back to let out a strangled cry. Rhett knows he can’t take much more, the sight and sound and friction of their bodies pushing him to the edge.

He wants more than he thinks he can have, more than he thinks Link’s willing to give. But Link’s right there with him, continuing to surprise him with his eagerness. He guides Rhett’s hand--his fingers--to push into him, to open him up. Rhett makes whispered attempts at asking Link for permission, humming _Is this ok?_ into his damp skin. Before he finishes speaking, though, Link is sliding into place, sinking himself down, testing his own limits.

It’s not long before they find a rhythm, slow and careful steadily becoming more wild and erratic as they push each other to finish. Part of Rhett wants to draw it out, stay here just a little longer, but his body betrays him, needing release. His fingers grip and pull at Link’s waist as he gives in to it, back arching into his climax, stilling their movement as he works through it. As always, Link follows him down, slumping into his chest, spilling hot, frantic breath onto his skin.

They are silent after. There’s nothing more to talk about, not now anyway. The edges of the world fade away, and together, they fall into a blissful slumber.

* * *

 

The morning brings questions with it.

They are still tangled up in each other as the sun rises, Link waking first and slipping out of bed to make coffee. Rhett wakes to an empty bed, feeling the loss of Link already. Part of him wonders if it was all just a fever dream; he’s actually back home in his own bed, Jessie’s downstairs making breakfast and getting the boys ready for school.

The room he’s in comes into focus, and he shakes himself out of it. He slips into pajama pants and makes his way downstairs to find Link. Rhett discovers him out on the deck, sipping a cup of hot coffee, legs curled up under him.

“Mornin’.” Rhett hears the sleepy roughness of his own voice, which startles Link and he nearly spills his coffee all over himself. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to scare you.” He leans over and places a kiss in Link’s hair, settling the man’s nerves.

“S’ok. How’d you sleep?” Link watches as Rhett sits down on the chair across from him, sees him shiver in the crisp morning air. “You cold?”

“Nah...It’s not so bad, and I’d hate to deprive you of my shirtlessness.” He winks at Link, who, despite the previous evening’s activities, blushes at Rhett’s brazen flirtation.

They sit for a few minutes, enjoying the stillness of the morning. Rhett waits for awkwardness to creep in, but it never does, the silence between them just as comfortable as it has ever been. He finds that reassuring; though so much has changed, some things stay the same.

“So...how long are we staying here?” Rhett asks the question even though he’s already decided on an answer.

“Forever? Is forever an option?” Link smiles at him, soft and sweet. Rhett wants so badly to give him what he wants. It would be so easy to forget where they came from, pretend this place was theirs. And he knows that he has to be the one to drag them back to reality. Link just got here. He won’t be able to do it yet.

“Link…”

“Not yet, please? I’m not ready.”

“We should go. I told you, we can’t stay.”

“We’ve only been here a day, everywhere else we’ve stayed for a week.”

“I know, but,” Rhett’s voice cracks, giving himself away, “I’m not sure I’ll be able to leave if we stay any longer. I don’t know how to give this up, how to give you up.”

“You don’t have to give me up, Rhett.” Link puts his coffee down and crosses over to stand in front of Rhett. He winds his fingers into his hair as Rhett rests his hands on his waist.

“Don’t I?” The grip Rhett has on him tightens and he leans in to press his face to Link’s belly, pulling him closer. “What happens at home? We’re liars, cheaters. Not everyone will feel the way you do. Be so easy with the forgiveness.” Rhett looks up and meets Link’s eyes, pleading with him to understand. “The truth is gonna blow everything up. I don’t know if I can do that.”

“So, what’s the alternative?” Link pushes back, out of Rhett’s grasp. His body goes tense, and it’s clear he’s angry. “We don’t tell them?  We leave all this here? Never come back? Never talk about it? But...but we just found it. We just found us, Rhett. You’d end it all just to prevent some hurt feelings?”

“I think that’s over-simplifying it a little, don’t you?”

But Rhett doesn’t get an answer to his question. The whole conversation is the sort of thing he wishes he could take back. In hindsight, he’d never have said any of those words. He wouldn’t have been so unsure about what he wants. He’d’ve just held Link tight and told him he loved him.

But that’s not what happens.

There’s a pop, a deafening crack. All sound is wiped out, replaced by thunderous ringing in his ears. It’s as though the universe itself is opening up, imploding.

Paralyzed, he watches as the world around him dims, flickers. He sees Link doubled over in pain before he’s gone, faded into the background as if he was never there.

Rhett can’t see, can’t hear, everything’s gone black, dark, replaced only with panic and fear. He feels as if he’s going to be sick, waves of nausea washing over him. He’s falling, spinning farther and farther into the blackness, until he lands flat on his back with a thud.

He feels like screaming, but the air’s been knocked from his lungs. He feels like running, but his legs won’t work. He feels like crying, but there are no tears.

Somewhere, maybe across the street, maybe thousands of miles away, Link’s landed just like Rhett: flat on his back, no wind in his lungs, no energy in his limbs, no voice to cry out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this story even though I suck at updating, I can't tell you how much I appreciate every comment and kudos (is it kudo?), they mean the world to me :)
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr @the-average-bear.
> 
> Endless thanks to @missingparentheses and @heatgeneratingtechniques for their super beta skills :)


	11. Chaos, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the little things Link needs to cling to now, as if they’re the very foundation of his life story. Of course things fade, the minutiae lost to the tide of time, whose gentle ebb and flow wears at the pictures held in his mind, eroding and polishing them smooth. But he needs those memories, now more than ever. He needs to keep them alive.

_He remembers._

The smell of fresh cut grass from the summer he spent riding a lawnmower across town. The sheen of sweat that seemed to cover everything by mid-afternoon. The clink of glass Coke bottles dripping with perspiration, shared in an endless green pasture.The sweetly acidic scent of homemade strawberry wine softened by the sound of the river rushing by. The faint ringing of church bells in the distance.

His halcyon days, tucked away in memory, filled to the brim with seemingly unimportant details. It’s these little things he needs to cling to now, as if they’re the very foundation of his life story. Of course things fade, the minutiae lost to the tide of time, whose gentle ebb and flow wears at the pictures held in his mind, eroding and polishing them smooth.

But he needs those memories, now more than ever. He needs to keep them alive.

It’s been six months. Six months since the breath was knocked from his lungs, six months since he was ripped apart and pieced back together. Six months since every trace of Rhett vanished from his life.

Link woke kicking and screaming next to his wife, who was startled awake by his flailing.  At first he was relieved to find himself in his own house, assuming Rhett had sent them home unexpectedly, perhaps wanting to avoid the conversation they had started. As consciousness began to creep in, though, he realized that this was not his home in California, but his old, tiny house back in Fuquay-Varina, North Carolina.

Confused, his head still ringing, his limbs still on fire, he reassured Christy that his frenzied state was simply due to a bad dream and grabbed his phone off the nightstand to try and get in touch with Rhett and figure out what in the world was going on.

In the bathroom, perched on the edge of the bathtub, eyes straining in the dim light, he flicked through his phone to call Rhett. But, strangely, he couldn’t find his number in his contacts. Searching through his texts also left him empty handed, as did his email. Desperate, he pressed the home button on his phone, whispering into the microphone, “Siri, call Rhett McLaughlin.”

The hollow voice from the depths of his phone repeated the message that flashed on the screen:

_I don’t see Rhett McLaughlin in your contacts, would you like me to search the web?_

“Uh...yeah. Yes. Search the web for Rhett McLaughlin, please.”

He flipped through the resulting web search, his phone slippery in his sweaty, shaky palms, but found nothing.The fear and panic that had slightly receded upon waking began to slink its way back into his heart.  A few _Rhett McLaughlins_ came up with Facebook and Linkedin profiles, but none of them were the man he was looking for. Frustrated, he returned to the bedroom to shake Christy awake again.

“Baby, I’m sorry to wake you up...it’s an emergency.”

Christy sat up in bed, blinking at him with a concerned look written across her sleepy features.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Rhett’s number in my phone. I really need to talk to him. Do you have his number anywhere?”

“You need to talk to who?”

“Rhett. I need to talk to Rhett.” Link shivered and realized as he spoke that he was close to tears.

Christy paused, visibly confused by Link’s request.

“Who is Rhett?”

* * *

 

_He remembers._

The night of Locke’s birth, he and Rhett embracing in the hallway of a crowded hospital, Link welcoming Rhett to the club of fatherhood with a proud smile. A tear fell down Rhett’s face and Link backed away, clapped him on the shoulder and told him to _suck it up, he was the father of a son now._ How silly and hollow that memory seems now; how immature so many of his ideas of manhood had been. If he could, he’d take back those words and let Rhett cry tears of joy on his shoulder as he held him through it.

Each day in this place is slightly harder than the one before it. He’s gotten the lay of the land, figured out the particulars of his life here. But so much is missing, so much is wrong.

For the first few weeks he had risen early every morning, pulled out his laptop and searched for any trace of his best friend in this world. He was certain that they’d simply gotten separated for some odd reason, flung to opposite sides of the country and that eventually he’d find Rhett and they’d be able to make their way home. But each empty inquiry left him a little more shattered, a little more broken.

When internet searches proved fruitless, he became a frenzy of panicked activity; driving to the elementary school, the high school, NC State, and hounding them for records of Rhett, but they had no documents of a student with Rhett’s name ever having attended. He continued to press them, day after day, sometimes calling and asking to speak to different clerks and secretaries, sometimes going in and pounding his fists on the counter, demanding answers. The last time he was at Buies Creek Elementary the principal threatened to call the police if he didn’t promise to leave and not come back.

He saw himself in that moment as if outside his body. He saw the tremble in his hands, the circles under his eyes. He was not a man anymore, but a shell, an empty vessel. He’d never felt so directionless or exhausted. But he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

Struck with an idea, he tried schools and engineering firms in Georgia and Thousand Oaks, California. Maybe Rhett had never moved to North Carolina in this universe and was still living in one of those places. But, again, no records. And in the back of his brain, a nagging thought worked its way forward. If his Rhett was here somewhere, transported into the body of this universe’s Rhett, then where was he? Why wasn’t he trying to find Link? Surely Link would be easier to find since he was still living in Fuquay with Christy. Surely that would be the first place Rhett would look for him.

He couldn’t dwell on that thought too long or it would pull him under, so he kept focused on his search. When he couldn’t find Rhett, he decided to look for anyone connected to him, his parents, their friends growing up, anyone he could think of. Finally, after months of searching, he found his first lead. Jessie.

She was on Facebook, living in Chapel Hill, but had been difficult to track down because she had a different last name: Randall. He assumed it was the name of her husband, but he had to know for sure, had to see it with his own eyes. He found her address and drove the hour or so it took to get to her house. He sat outside in his car, waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

When he finally did, his heart stopped. She was the same, but also so different. Her hair was a little shorter and lighter than he was used to seeing it, her eyes a little darker, skin a little paler. Or maybe he was just projecting his own weariness onto her; maybe she looked just as happy and healthy as she ever had. It was hard for him to tell.

She was coming out to get the mail, walking down the driveway, her sundress swishing in the breeze. He had to talk to her, ask her, be sure. He stepped out of his car and waved to her from across the street, rushing across the traffic to meet her at the end of her driveway.

“Excuse me...hi.” She looked up at him and smiled. He saw so much of Rhett in that smile, and it took him a moment to recover.

“Hi. My name is Link Neal. I’m looking for someone. He’s...he’s missing. I think you might know him or maybe you met him. His name is Rhett McLaughlin. Do you know anyone by that name?”

She blinked at him, eyes darting over his face as she tried to recall the name.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know anyone by that name. Do you have a picture?”

A picture. No, he didn’t have a picture, there are no pictures of Rhett here. He apologized for taking up her time and watched her retreat back up her driveway. Before she closed the door of her house, he etched the image of her into his mind. It seemed like it had been so long since he had seen her, and he wanted to preserve the sight of her in case it was the last time. Slamming the door of his car, he put his foot to the gas pedal and drove with no direction in mind.

Seeing white, the edges of his vision blurring against the bright sun, he let his hands lead him, spinning the steering wheel left, then right, up onto the highway, back down a rambling dirt road. When he finally pressed the brake, he was unsurprised to find himself at the bank of the Cape Fear river.

He wandered along the edge for a while, hurling rocks into the churning water, strings of strangled expletives tumbling out of him. Words turned to cries, shouted at the water, at the trees, all of which turned a deaf ear to his pain. The hot sun dried the tracks of his tears into his skin, erasing them.

Feeling numb, he stripped down to his boxers, climbed up one of the tall boulders lining the bank and leapt into the river. The water was cold, shocking his system back to life. He let the river carry him for a while as he watched the clouds gather and disperse, at times blanketing the sun and casting cool shadows over the rippling surface of the water. This was his home, a place he knew better than any other, and throughout his life he’d always been able to depend on it to bring him back to himself. But so much of his memory of this place is tied to his memories of Rhett and their shared adventures. They grew up on the banks of this river, the wind at their backs, their future written in the same greens and golds that painted the landscape. Now that he’s all but disappeared, the beauty Link once saw here seemed stripped bare, underwhelming, ashen. A world without Rhett was a world without color, a world without joy.

It took everything in him to climb back out of the river, dry himself off and find his way home.

* * *

Now, at day 183, he’s become more resigned to the reality he’s found himself in. He goes through the motions of his life here, drives himself to work, where he’s a manager of an electronic hardware manufacturing plant, a job he finds he’s well suited for despite its initial unfamiliarity.

At night, he shares disturbingly quiet meals with his family, the kids moaning about getting back to whatever they were doing on their various devices, Christy pouring more and more wine into her glass with each refill. It’s a very normal picture of a very normal family, but it’s not his. It’s easy for him to see the subtle brokenness of his family here, but he’s unsure how to fix it, how to help. There’s an incompleteness to them all, something no one else would ever notice, but he’s seen them all at their most bright and vibrant, and this version of them is, at best, quietly lackluster. If he could, he’d shake them all awake, show them what they’re missing, but he’s not whole either. He’s nothing but a traveler lost in the woods without his compass, each path all too similar to the one he’d just been on, perpetually walking in circles.

In sleep he’s plagued by a recurring, frustrating dream.

_He’s barefoot and running. Sometimes he sees the scenery blur past him, greens and blues and browns, but he can’t make it out, can’t see the details. Other times it’s empty, unfathomably dark and endless, a barren sea of blacks and grays. Sweat runs down his face and chest; his breath is ragged, heavy. But he can’t stop his feet from pounding out step after step after step as his body moves without his permission toward some unknowable end. A drumbeat pulses behind him, its rhythm erratic, its tempo unstable. It urges him to run faster, faster, faster, until his chest feels like it will explode, his breath burning in his lungs. He tries to wake himself up, bangs on his chest, screams to himself that it’s just a dream, but his efforts are futile. The dream rages on, pulling him further and further down its labyrinthine path._

_Throughout it all there’s a voice, soft and low, far away. He can’t make out what it’s saying, but he’s certain it’s important. He tells himself to pay attention, but what he really wants to do is to turn heel and run back the way he came. It seems like it should be easy enough to spin himself around and run in the other direction, but he’s fixed on his course, dragged along it by some imperceptible force._

_And like clockwork, each night he’s pulled awake at the same moment—just as it seems he’s found the source of the voice, which suddenly rings out so clear and familiar, overwhelming him, pounding on his eardrums._

It used to take him a while to recover from the dream, needing a long cold shower every morning to shake off the uneasiness with which it left him. But now, he finds comfort in it, slipping off to sleep swift and easy. It’s not that he finds the dream pleasant, quite the opposite, in fact. But in it lies a sort of mystery, one that seems more easily solvable than the reality he’s faced with.

He can’t travel on his own; that much he knows. He’s tried it all—meditating, lighting candles, sensory deprivation—following the steps he’d watched Rhett do so many times, but he can’t make it work. He can’t connect to the universe without Rhett’s open heart to guide him. So he retreats into the shadow provided by his subconscious. The further he gets from finding his way back to his own life, the easier it is to wander off into the chimera offered by his dream world.

* * *

 

“What?”

The knock on his office door is quiet, undeserving of the forcefulness of Link’s response. He looks up to see his startled coworker standing in the doorway, palms raised. She starts to retreat back out the door mumbling an apology for interrupting.

“No...no...come in. Sorry,” Link offers, shaking his head at himself. Things like this keep happening to him; he’ll be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly find himself yelling at the person he’s talking to. His inconsistent sleep is getting to him, making him increasingly more irritable. He repeats his apology and is able to get through the conversation without snapping again, but internally he admonishes himself.

Just the night before, he’d had a similar exchange with Christy. They’d been talking about something mundane, her mother needing a ride somewhere over the weekend, and even though he’d only been half listening—his mind wandering as it so often does here—he suddenly found himself in the middle of a shouting match.

“Stop!”

Christy’s always been feisty, quick to react, but the tone in her voice at that moment stopped him cold.

“This has to stop, Link. I don’t know what’s been going on with you the last few months, but…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the words she was looking for. “You’re not here. Not really. I know things haven’t been great for a while, but it’s like you’re a different person lately. You barely talk to me, let alone touch me. And you’re always so…angry. Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

Link heard the pleading in her voice and instinctively ran to wrap his arms around her, protect her, but she pushed him away, said she needed some space to think. He stayed up late as he searched the internet, the pads of his thumbs numb from typing out _Rhett McLaughlin_ so many times. He fell asleep with his phone in his hand, and in his dream met the same winding path through the dark. The same whispery voice called to him, urged him to press on, find the end of the road. He was certain that answers were waiting for him there, but again they proved elusive, just out of his reach.

And now he’s lashing out at his coworkers.

 _Christy’s right_ , he thinks as he eats his lunch alone at his desk, _something has to change_ . If he’s stuck here for the foreseeable future, which it appears he is, he should at least make an effort to pretend to be happy with the life he’s living. If not for his sake, for the sake of everyone he loves. Maybe it’s time to give up the idea that he’ll be able to get back to where he came from. A thought eats at him; that maybe where he came from isn’t real at all, but is simply some ridiculous fantasy dreamed up by his overactive imagination to fill the emptiness inside him here. He doesn’t want that to be true— _it can’t be true—_ so he pushes it aside. The thought lingers with him though, worming its way into the corners of his memories, coloring them with traces of doubt.

He’s shaken out of his wandering thoughts by his phone buzzing in his pocket. It’s Christy, calling to suggest that they go to his mother’s for dinner. Sue had called earlier in the week trying to set up a time to visit, though Link guesses that Christy has only accepted now as a way to get out of their house and avoid another fight. He agrees to dinner, thinking it will be good to see his mom, and they make plans for him to come by and pick them all up on the way over.

The five of them arrive for dinner and, as he suspected, his mother’s cheeriness proves to be a welcome distraction for them all. Her house is warm, the smell of fried chicken wafting from the kitchen. Link’s eyes scan the house. He’s always comforted by this place—it’s something that hasn’t changed from his own timeline. Every piece of decor, each knick-knack and picture on the wall is exactly the same as it is at his own mother’s house. They sit down at the big dining room table, his family, Sue and her husband Louis, the easy conversation lifting his spirits a bit.

 _I should be happy here,_ he thinks as Louis returns from the kitchen and presses a fresh beer into his hand. _These people are family; they’re home._

At some point the conversation turns, and they’re talking about the foolish things they all did in high school. It starts with Lily complaining about some of her friends getting in trouble for an elaborate series of pranks played on each other. Most of it is harmless enough, and Christy jumps in to recount a story about a prank her senior class played on the principal of her school. Louis tells tales of growing up in the wild landscape of North Carolina in the 60’s, pulling them all in with his thick and honeyed drawl.

Link is noticeably quiet during this part of the conversation until Lando looks up at him and says, “Dad, tell us a funny one about you.”

A warm smile creeps over his face, and he’s about to tell the story of him and Rhett throwing rocks off the roof of the university and all the trouble they got themselves in, but stops himself short, panicking as he realizes that story never happened here. He racks his brain to come up with an anecdote from his youth he can tell to satisfy his family, but can’t think of one that doesn’t involve Rhett.  

It all hits him then, washes over him like a wave. How lost he feels without Rhett by his side, how incomplete his life here is. He wants to scream, cry, beg his family to help. But he knows they wouldn’t understand, and even if they did, what could they do? He pushes back from the table, makes up a flimsy excuse about indigestion and flies out the front door of the house.

He runs halfway down the driveway, hoping that putting physical space between himself and the house will ease his rising anxiety. He breathes in the scent of honeysuckle, which vines its way up the side of the house. It’s always reminded him of home, of his family, but right now it’s overpowering, sickly sweet and heavy with his homesickness. The cool night air whips around him and soothes his flushed skin, but it causes the tears in his eyes sting as they fall down his face.

“Dammit, Rhett,” he whispers to the air around him. “Where are you?”

The screen door creaks open behind him and he’s expecting Christy’s voice, high and tight with frustration over him ruining an otherwise lovely dinner. He turns to apologize to her, offer some tired refrain about not feeling well, but instead he finds Sue leaning against the doorframe. He wipes at his face, hoping the cover of darkness hides his tears. She calls to him, asks him to join her on the porch. They settle onto the worn wicker sofa that’s clearly seen its fair share of Carolina summers. He waits for her to say something, tell him he needs to get it together, admonish him for being rude, anything, but instead he watches quizzically as she digs around in the cushions of the little couch. Eventually she pulls out a pack of cigarettes that look like they’ve been crushed under the cushions for about 20 years. She waves them around triumphantly for a moment, smiling at the stunned look on Link’s face as she lights one and leans back into the armrest.

“Don’t tell the kids. Old habits and all that, y’know?”

Before putting the pack back where she found it, she stretches out an arm, offering one to him. In response he raises an eyebrow, he’s never smoked a day his life and he’s certain she knows that. She grins at his reaction.

“Didn’t think so…just wanted to be polite.”

They sit for a few moments, watching the intermittent traffic as it passes the house. The lights of the passing headlights cast long shadows through the trees that line the road. Link knows what’s coming, can hear the words she’ll say before she even opens her mouth.

“You all right, honey?”

“Yeah, Mama, I’m fine.”

“Hmm…fine, huh? If I had a nickel for every time I heard you say ‘I’m fine, Ma’…” She gets lost in a thought, turning her face to study her son’s. “I swear that’s what’ll be etched on your tombstone: ‘Here lies Charles Lincoln Neal the Third. He was…fine.’ ” She pulls a face and shrugs her shoulders to indicate that she’s joking before continuing, “Look, if there’s something you gotta get off your chest, y’know you can talk to me right? If there’s something bothering you—”

“You been talking to Christy?”

“Of course I talked to Christy. She calls me. She worries. I worry."

“You don’t need to—I’m sorry if I’ve been weird lately. I promise I’m gonna try harder to be what y’all need me to be.”

“Oh, baby, you got it all wrong. You don’t need to be anything for us—except maybe just you. I should’ve…” She trails off, weighing whether or not to say what’s been on her mind. “You were always lonely as a child, a little sad. I should’ve pushed harder for you to make more friends, be more involved in things. And then when you met Christy, I figured…I thought that would help you, make you happy. And I think it did for a while, but, it’s strange…I don’t know how to explain it.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, pulling back into the reservoir of her memory. “It started when you were young, maybe 6 or 7. Like the light you had when you were little—gosh, you were the most animated, funny little baby—that light just dimmed, little by little, year after year. I knew you were being bullied at school. I should’ve done more.”

Her words spark a memory in Link: a lanky, red-faced Rhett stomping across the school yard, fists balled at his side. A group of boys laughing their heads off, Link’s name passed around between them with increasing ridicule. He had whispered to Rhett not to do this, that they were just gonna get in trouble, but Rhett was too mad and he’d already decided what needed to be done.

“You needed someone to stand up for you. I should’ve done that for you. I…I was so busy with work, and you were home alone so much. You needed a friend and you needed your Mom.” She trails off as a tear rolls down her face.

“Ma, it’s not your…”

“Can you just let your Mama speak, please?” She reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently, “I been thinking about this for a long time. And I just wanna say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to fix whatever it that’s been broken in you. I wanna help; just tell me what you need and—“

He’s so close to letting the words tumble out, explaining that he’s not who she thinks he is, that this version of him is all wrong. That if he can just find his way back home, back where things make sense, maybe he can make everything right. But he chokes on the words, knowing it won’t make any difference. He doesn’t want to hurt her or make her worry any more than he already has. And he’s not sure what comfort the truth would bring her anyway. It sounds like this Link’s always been a little damaged, a little less than complete. Link knows why, but he can’t fix it. He can’t bring Rhett here, can’t force him into a place he’s never existed.

“I’m ok, really. I’m gonna work on it, I promise.” He lies to her, but what else can he do?

“You deserve to be happy, baby. If things with Christy aren’t—”

“No. That’s not it, I mean, that’s not all of it. I’ll talk to her; we can figure it out. I’m sorry you’ve been so worried about me. I’m sorry that Christy’s been so worried. I never…the last thing I wanted was to hurt any of you—”

“Link, honey. It’s ok. You don’t have to make any promises. Well…except one, maybe. That someday when you’re ready, you’ll tell me what’s been on your mind? Can you do that for me?”

Link nods, and promises, knowing they’ll never have that conversation. He’s always been a bad liar, but he thinks she believes him, or maybe it’s just that she wants to believe him so badly she convinces herself he’s being honest. She stands and ruffles her fingers in Link’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head before heading back into the house, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the night sky.

For a few minutes he sits and takes in the landscape around the house. This place should feel like home, should bring him comfort, but instead all it does is make him nervous, fueling a deep restlessness he can’t seem to shake. He makes his way back into the house and finds his family in the middle of saying their goodbyes. Christy shoots him a concerned look, but says nothing.

The ride home is quiet, the kids worn out from a long day. Christy drives and he watches the scenery as it speeds past. The road winds through the trees, which hang solemnly in the distance, all color washed from their leaves by the dark of night. The asphalt blurs under the tires of the car, and he feels his eyelids grow heavy. He rests his head against the headrest, letting his eyes flutter shut. He’s close to drifting off when he hears someone call his name.

Jolting back awake, he looks at Christy. Her eyes are trained on the road and there’s no indication she was trying to get his attention. He glances at the kids, but they’re all lost in their own business; Lily is texting her friends, Lincoln’s got his headphones on and Lando has fallen asleep in the back.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?” She answers without looking at him, focused on the road ahead.

“Did you need me?”

“Huh?”

“I thought…sorry…I thought I heard you say my name."

“Nope…no one’s said anything. You must’ve been dreaming. It looked like you fell asleep for a second there.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I must’ve fallen asleep.”

It nags at him, the voice that called his name. It was so warm and familiar, but he can’t place it. He wants to hear it again.

They pull into the driveway and the house becomes a flurry of nighttime activities. Once everyone’s in their respective bedrooms, he and Christy curl up in bed as she flips through channels on the T.V. He turns to face her and brushes the hair back from her face. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he runs a hand down her neck as he breathes her in.

“I’m sorry if I ruined dinner.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I just wanna know what’s wrong. I wish you could trust me enough to tell me.”

She’s right. He’s been here long enough, disrupted her life enough that she deserves some kind of answer. But anything he says could cause everything to implode; there’s too many unknown outcomes. If he leaves, somehow finds a way to get home after telling her the truth, or even part of the truth, he’s leaving his poor, clueless doppleganger to clean up the mess. Or if he’s forced to stay here, if he can’t get home, he’ll never be able to prove what he’s said. So he opts for speaking in ambiguities, laying aside context in hopes he can get across his meaning.

“You ever feel like you’re not who you’re supposed to be? Like there’s so much more you know you could do or be, but you’ve just never achieved it?”

Christy turns to face him, mirrors his gesture, slipping her fingers into his hair and brushing the silvery strands from his forehead.

“Who do you want to be?” Her voice turns soft, supportive. “If you’re unhappy at work, that’s ok, we can figure something out. You could go back to school, I could go back to teaching—“

“Yeah, maybe that’s it. Maybe I just need a change.”

“Maybe we all do. I believe in you, babe. If there’s something you wanna do, we can make it happen. I want you to be happy. I want us all to be happy. And whatever we’re doing now isn’t working.”

Link pulls her closer, wraps his arms tight around her. She sighs and folds into him, resting her head on his chest. For a moment he feels content. If he has to stay here, if this is all the universe is offering him right now, he should try to make the best of it. He can help get his family out of whatever rut they’re in. Perhaps this Christy would be receptive to the idea of moving to California. He’s been so focused on what he’s lost that he’s lost sight of everything he has. He resolves to stop wallowing in his own grief and start working towards building something better for his family here. They deserve the best version of him, too.

With Christy in his arms, he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

 The dream is the same as it always is, or so it seems.

_He’s running on that same endless loop, feet heavy on the pavement, body screaming with exhaustion. This time, though, there’s no blur of scenery, no color or shapes to make out. It’s endless, empty black nothingness. A contradiction; at once expansive, its boundaries infinite, yet also claustrophobic, oppressive in its emptiness._

_At times it seems like he’s been here forever, lost in this wild black terrain. But then time rushes, catches back up with him, and it’s obvious he’s only been here a few moments, minutes, maybe even just seconds._

_And the voice. It’s still there, in the distance. He recognizes it but can’t hear what it’s saying. The drumbeat drowns it out. So he runs faster. It’s so close he can feel it. Can feel the heat of it._

_And then, all at once it’s crystal clear: his name. The voice is saying his name. Over and over, like a record skipping. It’s the voice he heard in the car, the same rich, steady timbre whispering his name so intimately it makes him cry._

_Suddenly, or maybe not so suddenly, maybe it’s always been this way, the voice is connected to a hand, to an arm, to a body. He can’t see it but he knows it. Before he can even register what’s happening, he feels warm fingers touching his face, pulling at his wrists. The hands drag him further and further into the emptiness until he’s swallowed whole by it._

_But he’s not afraid._

_He knows these hands, he knows this voice. It’s calling him home._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to @missingparentheses and @heatgeneratingtechniques for their beta-ing :)
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr, if that's your kind of thing, @the-average-bear. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, we're coming into the home stretch here. As always, comments and kudos are welcome and greatly appreciated!


	12. Chaos, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days have passed, or months, or weeks—it’s hard to say; the chaos of Rhett's new reality is thoroughly overwhelming. He can no longer trust his own senses; time after time he opens his eyes, never knowing where he’ll find himself—always hoping against all odds that he’s somehow made his way home.

_Breathe._

He tries, but the air is like lead and his lungs are screaming. He hears himself cry out, feels someone’s hand touch his face. He tells himself to move, get up, run, but the connection between his brain and his body seems damaged; his synapses are unable to make the necessary connections.

A voice calls his name. It sounds familiar, but it’s muffled behind the ringing in his ears.

His eyes are open, but he can’t see. The world is bent and blurred, but at the edge of it—clear as day—is the image of Link, doubled over, disappearing before Rhett’s eyes. Rhett tries to reach for him, tries to call to him, tell him it will all be alright, but Link’s gone before he gets the chance.

After what feels like an eternity, the color of the world rushes back and overwhelms Rhett’s sensitive eyes. He sees a woman crouched over him, worry written across her face. He doesn’t know her, or maybe he does and just can’t remember. Everything seems so foggy.

“Rhett? Are you ok?” The woman rushes away but returns quickly with a bottle of water. She helps him sit up and presses the bottle to his lips, encouraging him to drink.

“What happened?” Rhett’s voice is thin, but the woman seems reassured by the sound of it.

“We were talking about the shooting schedule and you just passed out. Should I call a doctor? Or Jessie?”

 _Jessie._ It feels like years since he’s seen her. Any version of her sounds like a welcome comfort so Rhett nods ‘yes’ and the woman pulls out her phone, brushing her thick blonde hair from her ear to talk into it. Something clicks and Rhett feels silly for not being able to remember who she is sooner.

_“Jen?”_

Jen pulls the phone away from her mouth, looking to Rhett expectantly, “Yeah, Rhett? What do you need?”

“Nothing. I just…I knew I knew you.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, he feels it start to happen again. A wave of nausea rolls through him as the floor gives out beneath him.

He’s falling, tumbling through the inky black a second time. Fear and confusion run hot through his veins as he waits for fate—or whatever the hell is doing this to him—to decide where he’ll land.

When he comes to—this time in a field of grass, the sound of children’s laughter echoing through his addled brain as he regains consciousness—he’s able to acclimate more quickly now that he knows what to expect. He must’ve been sitting in the grass alone, no one seems to be rushing to his aid or noticing him at all.

He’s dizzy, but tries to stand anyway, looking around for some clue as to where he is. It’s a park, lush and green, the air welcomingly crisp. He sees a playground in the distance ahead. Walking towards it on shaky legs, he hopes to find a familiar face among the crowd of parents, but just as he reaches the edge of the fence that lines the play structure, he’s gone again—ripped away before he can even make sense of it.

It happens again, and again, and again. He tries to fight it, tries to ground himself and claw back against the encroaching darkness, but the pull is too strong. In the middle of it all, with no other option left to him, Rhett gives in. He can’t make it stop, so he rides it like a wave and lets the universe drag him where it wants him. It’s all contradictory, a jumbled mess of time and space and perception. He’s there, then he’s not. He’s falling, then he stops. He’s himself and he’s not.

He feels as if he’s looking out the window of a speeding train; his eyes go slack and the details of the world start to blur together until all he’s left with is a fleeting, dizzying sense of color and shape and his own velocity.

Days have passed, or months, or weeks—it’s hard to say; the chaos of his new reality is thoroughly overwhelming. He can no longer trust his own senses; time after time he opens his eyes, never knowing where he’ll find himself—always hoping against all odds that he’s somehow made his way home.

He wants desperately to know how long he’s been gone, how long it’s been since he left Link—since everything fell away from him—but he can’t say for sure exactly how long it’s been. All the clocks he finds are liars, deceiving him with their slow, steady tick-tocking. They beat on, consistent in their measured cadence, as if they were no longer meaningless, as if Rhett’s entire world hasn’t been turned upside down.

In the early days, when he first discovered that he could bend space and time, it happened without his knowledge or consent. It was something that happened to him, not something he controlled. Slowly, over time, he learned to manipulate it himself. He began to take possession of it and came to think of it as a skill he had learned and mastered. Looking back, the confidence he once felt in his abilities now feels like arrogance. He was a fool, naive and impulsive, making choices without ever considering the consequences.

The illusion of control has made the loss of it all the more devastating. Every semblance of rules or order has been stripped away and, now, all that’s left is confusion. Though not as turbulent as it was at first, he’s still flung from place to place with little warning or regard for his well-being. Sometimes he’s left there for days or weeks, other times just hours or minutes. It’s as if he’s being played with by the universe like a cat plays with a mouse; he’s a toy to be tossed around by fate and chance. He tries to leave, send himself home, travel the way he has so many times before, but it’s as though he’s been cut off from the part of himself that was able to connect to the universe in that way. It feels like some sort of punishment; like he’s being taught a lesson, but there’s no time for him to process it, no chance for him to catch his breath and sort out what it all might mean.

Over and over again he’s shown a different version of his own life and with time the details that differentiate between those lives become increasingly irrelevant. His job, his house, what part of the world he lives in, the state of his facial hair—the minutia weaves together until it all feels essentially the same. None of it matters anyway. All that matters is that now he knows.

He knows that there are an infinite number of universes where he’s alone.

Each place he passes through offers a cruel parade of faces both familiar and unknown, but he can’t ever find the one he so desperately longs to see. He’s found Jessie’s loving arms, Stevie’s brilliant, comforting laugh, his children’s cheerful exuberance—once he even found Christy and cried like a baby at the sight of her. But, to his increasing frustration, he’s unable to find Link. Each life he’s thrown into feels so much like his own, with one significant exception: Link is just gone—vanished as though he never existed. As a result, every place feels hollow, empty—a discarded husk of his own life, as if dreamed into being for no other reason than to mock his heart as it breaks.

Every chance he gets, Rhett closes his eyes and pictures Link’s face, whispers his name over and over into the black nothingness. Internally, he begs—pleads—for Link to hear him, to come back to him. But time and again he’s disappointed.

On the rare occasion that he lands in a place that’s familiar and is allowed to stay for more than a few days, when he has the chance to get his bearings and try to sort out what’s going on, he finds his mind wandering. He should be planning, trying to think of ways to get himself out of this mess and return home, but instead he ends up daydreaming. He thinks back over the last few months, about the adventures he’s shared with Link. More often than not his mind drifts to them together in the place they last saw each other, tangled up in bed—in each other—and he revels in how pristine that moment had been. He lingers on the memory of Link’s skin against his, the smell of him, warm and woodsy,like sweaty summer days and evergreen trees—like home.  

They’d been so unaware of what the universe had in store for them. Rhett thought they’d have time to figure out what everything meant, what they meant to each other. But fate had other plans.

He wonders where Link is, if he somehow made it home. He doesn’t think it’s possible; how could he be left in this purgatory and Link be at home, happy, living out their ordinary life? But the other thought is equally terrifying, that Link is also trapped in a similar sort of loop, passing through versions of himself without Rhett. He can’t help but feel guilty for dragging Link into all of this. He’d promised to protect him, to keep him safe. But now they’re both so lost.

At some point Rhett finds himself on the back patio of his own house, in a life that’s frustratingly similar to his own. It’s one of the few times he’s been somewhere for more than a few days and has had a chance to settle in. It’s precarious though; he knows by now not to get too comfortable as it could all be pulled out from underneath him at any moment.

His family is busy in the house, a quiet evening of homework, dinner and TV. It’s a routine he’s familiar with from his own life, and he can predict exactly which moment is best for him to slip outside unnoticed. From the deck he watches the sun set against the San Gabriel mountains, the sky alight with brilliant oranges and purples. It must be fall; he feels the hot winds of the Santa Anas blow across the valley, bringing with them a recognizable sense of unease.

He closes his eyes and—as he does so often in these rare moments of reflection—pictures Link’s face. He draws the shape of it in his mind’s eye, remembering the details he’d noticed the first time they were together; the gentle flush that crept up Link’s cheeks as Rhett kissed him, the piercing blue of his eyes as Rhett moved in him, the shy smile that lingered on his face as he had drifted off to sleep after. And then—like always—Rhett whispers his name. He speaks it softly, gently, barely a sound behind his breath as he offers up Link’s name to the dry wind swirling over his head.

But this time, instead of the endless disappointment of his own voice ringing through his head, Rhett gets something in return. It’s faint, but if he strains, really focuses in on it, he can hear something echo back to him.

At first he thinks it must be the trilling of some nocturnal bird, waking for the night, ready to set off in search of its prey. But the more he listens, the clearer it becomes that it’s the sound of a voice. It worms its way through the darkness and settles gently around him. Rhett lets it envelop him like a warm blanket, and after a few moments it becomes undeniable: it’s Link’s voice.

Rhett can’t make out what he’s saying, but the lilting melody of it vibrates through Rhett’s entire being, filling his heart near to the brim with longing. He tries to hold onto it, follow it, but before he can even figure out what’s happening, it’s gone. Rhett opens his eyes, blinking away tears. He smiles and laughs to himself, realizing he’d been holding his breath. He lets it out now in a deep sigh of something that feels like relief; though it’s not much, it’s the first hint of Link’s presence he’s had in months.

Returning to the house, he tiptoes into the bedroom, slipping into bed next to Jessie. Rhett lies awake long after she falls asleep and lets Link’s name slip across his tongue over and over. Each time he does, he’s rewarded with Link’s voice in return—again the words Link speaks are faint and indecipherable, but nonetheless they’re there. He feels giddy; for the first time in so long he’s found something to cling to—a reason to hope.

That night he dreams in brilliant color. He’s wandered into a field of stars, unfurled across a narrow, winding path. Rhett runs, the sound of Link’s voice like a song in his head. With each heavy step he’s certain he’s getting closer to his goal. A bright star, whose light drowns out the rest of the sky, navigates him home.

Rhett’s ripped awake by an alarm clock, the shock of returning to reality causing his heart to pound. It takes him a moment to reorient himself and catch his breath. The dream had been so vividly real that it’s left him confused and shaken. His body is firmly back in the corporeal world, but his mind is left wandering somewhere else.

After acclimating, he sends up a silent prayer to let him stay here for a few more days so he can figure out what happened last night. If the voice was real, can he make it happen again? Can he get closer to it or figure out its source? These questions run through his head as he goes through the motions of his day. Whenever he gets a moment alone he tries again, repeating _Link, Link, Link, Link_ until it feels like the name is etched into the skin on his lips. But the distractions of the day make it harder to hear the voice on the other end. It comes in weak bursts, there one moment and gone the next.

That night the scene is nearly identical to the night before: homework, dinner, dishes. Again he slips outside, hoping the open air might act as a conduit, helping him bridge the universe sized gap between him and Link.

But he never gets more than a whisper, no matter how hard he tries.

And again, in his dreams, he’s chasing down the same star, its light undimmed by the others surrounding it. It’s a beacon, Rhett’s sure of it—a signal calling him home; if only he can reach it.

The pattern repeats, day after day. Rhett opens his heart and tries to hang onto the glimmer of hope he had felt that first night, but feels it slowly start to slip away as he makes sluggish progress toward his goal.

A week or so later he’s outside again one night after dinner, lying on the cool concrete next to the pool, eyes wrenched closed as he shouts Link’s name, throws it with the full weight of his voice toward the sky. It had started as nothing more than a mumble; Rhett mouthing the sounds behind his teeth, but as his frustration built so did the volume of his voice. He’s so focused on what he’s doing—his ridiculous ritual—that he doesn’t hear Jessie calling his name as she marches across the yard.

“Rhett!” she shouts, finally cutting through the noise of Rhett’s own voice in his head. Startled, his eyes fly open and meet hers. “What in the world…what are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry, babe,” Rhett starts as he scrambles up to his feet, “I was just…meditating.”

“Meditating? You were shouting.”

“Was I? Sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“You didn’t realize that you were yelling? I’m surprised we haven’t gotten a call from the neighbors. What is going on?”

“I’m sorry, I just needed to—I’m just trying to clear my head,” Rhett stammers his way through an explanation.

"It sounded like you were saying a name over and over. Who—or what—is _Link_?” It’s not an accusation; Rhett can tell she’s genuinely worried. He wishes he could give her an answer that would make sense. It hits him that it’s not only Link that he misses, but his family, his life, his home. He misses his Jessie with his whole heart, wants to be able to confide in her, hold her like he used to. But looking at her face, he knows she’s not his. Just like the bright, clear moon in the sky, she’s a facsimile of the Jessie he knows so well.

“Oh, um, it’s just part of this mantra I learned,” he lies, but he can tell she doesn’t buy it. He should know better by now. Every version of his wife he’s ever met has had the uncanny ability to see right through him. She crosses the space between them and reaches up to run a hand through his hair. He leans into the warmth of the gesture, feels some of his tension melt away at her touch.

“A mantra, huh? Doesn’t sound like any mantra I’ve ever heard.” She leans in close and peers up into his eyes. “You feel like talking about whatever it is you’re trying to ‘clear your head’ of?”

“No, it’s not—it’s nothing, I promise.” He wraps his arms around her, breathing into her.  “I think I’m gonna go for a drive. I just need to—“

“Clear your head?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“You want me to come? The kids’ll be ok here for a bit.”

“No, thanks, but I—I think I need to be alone. I won’t be gone long…I’ll be back before you’re asleep.”

“You sure everything’s ok?” There’s that look again, the one where it seems like she can read between his words to decipher the truth of his heart.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just a weird day.” He lies again as he kisses her, vowing that if he ever gets home and sees his Jessie, he’ll never lie to her again.

Once out on the road, the freeway mostly clear of traffic, he lets the wheel guide him. The signs are blurs, flashes of bright green as they pass over his windshield. It’s more than an hour before he realizes what road he’s on: the 14, a tiny, narrow highway that winds its way through the desert on the way to Red Rock Canyon, where he and Link had come once to ride ATVs in the blistering June sun.

He pulls the car over, dust kicking up behind him as he slows to a stop. He gets out and sits on the hood, leaning back to take in the night sky. Without the haze of the city, the stars have free reign to shine, and he lets himself get lost in them. They stretch from horizon to horizon, a heavy blanket wrapping up the Earth in their vast expanse. Rhett feels the weight of them, the burdensome gravity of a million suns suddenly overwhelming and unbearable.

He tears himself away, needing to feel his feet on the ground again. As he kicks at his tires, trying to decide whether to keep driving or head back, he notices that just past where he’s parked there’s a little path carved into the dusty landscape leading away from the road. Curious, Rhett opens the trunk of his car and rummages around until he finds a flashlight. It flickers to life and illuminates the narrow trail that winds through the rocky terrain. He’s hit with a wave of recognition. With the stars above and the desert below and the path stretching out before him, he realizes it looks identical to the scene in his dream.

His heart starts racing as he steps off the road. He tells himself that he’s imagining things, that he’s just confusing reality with his dream, causing some sort of extended deja-vu. But he can’t stop himself from continuing further and further along the path. His feet pick up speed, and the longer he walks the clearer it becomes: this is definitely the place he dreamed about.

 _This is insane. You definitely should not wander out into the desert alone at night._ In his mind, he runs through all the scenarios in which this could go terribly wrong. He pictures coyotes lurking just outside the radius of the little circle of light his flashlight emits or getting lost, ending up stuck out in the desert for days with no food or water. But looking up, he sees that star again and the sight of it comforts him. It’s so bright he can practically feel the heat of it. He maps the constellations, finding the two smaller stars that line the top edge of the Big Dipper. They point toward the star he’s been following, confirming what Rhett already suspected; it’s the North Star, Polaris, burning bright to guide him home.

He’s full out running now—it’s absurd, he knows, thinking that he can somehow reach a star that is hundreds of light years away. But something keeps his feet moving, pulling him along as if by an invisible tether, and he knows that he no longer has a choice. This is his path, there’s no turning back now.

And then he hears it: Link’s voice speaking his name—booming and bright and clear as day, as if Link were standing right next to him. It nearly flattens him on his back. He stumbles and tries to catch his breath as he lets the sound wash over him. It reverberates through him, echoes through his head, crushing in its intensity.

The next moment, before Rhett can even process what’s happening, the sky seems to open, waves of brilliant light undulating, tearing across the sky. It’s violent and beautiful, accompanied by a sound so deafening Rhett wonders if the heavens themselves are crashing down around him. The Earth seems to spin beneath his feet, its axial rotation suddenly picking up speed. Rhett can’t do anything but try to cling to his own senses and wait for it all to be over.

Then, as quickly as it all started, it stops. Everything falls away and Rhett’s left alone in the dark. He can feel his feet beneath him, but everything else is gone, replaced by a vast nothingness that feels both empty and constricting. Rhett hopes that maybe his eyes just need to adjust, that he’s traveled somewhere and hasn’t yet gotten his senses back. But as he blinks into the darkness, he realizes that this is something different.

Spinning in place, Rhett senses that he’s not alone. Someone’s there with him in the dark, getting closer and closer. Rhett can’t see him, but he can feel him. He hears his breath, the rhythm of it matching his own heartbeat. Rhett reaches out blindly, grasping at any sign that Link might be there with him. He shouts Link’s name and his fingertips brush warm skin. Rhett tugs wildly at the air, desperately hoping for more contact. Finally, he feels his fingers curl around something solid: an arm, a wrist, a hand.  

He pulls with all his strength and cries out as Link tumbles out of the black and into his arms.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!! 
> 
> Thank you @missingparentheses & @heatgeneratingtechniques (@lunar-winterlude on tumblr) for beta-ing :) 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who is still reading this fic after all this time. I know my updates are torture, but we're almost at the finish line.


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